The Way I Am
by Ava Miranda Dakedavra
Summary: If you were falling, then I would catch you. You need a light? I'd find a match. 'Cause I love the way you say "good morning." And you take me the way I am. AU.
1. Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head

**Tra-la-la have another AU crossover la-de-da~**

**Also this was supposed to be a oneshot but on page 86 in eighteen-point font, this is way too long to be a oneshot. And I'm not even done!**

* * *

There was a loud groan, followed by a lot of cursing. Eyebrows rose up and flicked over to the blonde, who merely arched an eyebrow and shrugged back.

"Eh, who cares, she's a witch," he answered back, arms crossed over his chest.

"Son of a _bitch_, what the _hell?_" the feminine voice floated up the stairs, her accent making her swearing sound somehow more intelligent.

"She's British?" Sam asked, blinking back.

"Hey, I just got a tip from the guy that she was a witch," Dean shrugged again.

"_Oy!_ Captors! Someone come down here and explain to me why the bloody hell you kidnapped me!" she yelled, a loud _thwack_ sound being heard. Castiel wondered what she must've hit.

Dean frowned, stood, and opened the door to coolly call down to her, "Shut it, witch, you'll get a trial in a second." And with that, he slammed the basement door shut as a frustrated growl ripped through the air.

"Wait," Castiel stood, moving slowly to the door and opening it to find her slumped at the bottom of the stairs. She picked up her head and arched an eyebrow at him as he took a few steps down and tilted his head at her. Her hair was brown and curly and all over the place, her hands tied behind her back, her brown eyes watching him carefully. "What is your name?"

She was silent for a moment or two before she answered, "Hermione Granger."

Castiel blinked before walking down the rest of the steps, Dean and Sam sharing curious glances as Castiel kneeled down next to her and settled a hand on her shoulder, "You'll be safe, I promise." He then turned and began to untie her before Dean began to come down the steps.

"Whoa-whoa-whoa, Angel Boy, you better have a damn good reason for untying a psychotic witch!" Dean yelled.

"_Psychotic_?" she spluttered before glaring, "If anyone here is psychotic, it'd be you! Now – explain to me who told you I was a witch."

"Jeffry Davis," Sam answered, still at the top of the staircase. Dean made a noise of disapproval at his brother.

She snorted and rolled her eyes, "My ex-boyfriend who was sore about my kicking his ass when I had enough? That explains it." She smiled at Castiel when he untied her, rubbing her sore wrists, "Thank you." She stood and placed a hand to her head, blinking rapidly, "What happened to my head?"

"Might've kicked you," Dean answered with a sniff.

"Mmn, that'd do that then," she said, shutting her eyes and bracing herself against the wall.

"Castiel," Sam called, making the angel look up and blink at him, "Do you know her?"

"Of course," he answered, "I'm her guardian. I watched over her during her battles. She is good, I assure you."

"So she _is_ a witch?" Sam gaped.

"Yes, hello, there's this thing we have called the Statute of _Secrecy_? We stick to it rather harshly!" Hermione called before releasing a breath and sliding down the wall, still holding her head, "Where's my wand?"

"Err – wand?" Dean echoed. Of all the witches they had ever fought, none of them had _ever_ had a wand.

"Yes – it's a stick, might've waved it around threateningly a few times – where is it?" she glared.

Castiel stood and said, "I'll go and retrieve it." And with that, he left, leaving the Winchester brothers with a witch.

"So what are you then?" Dean asked, standing directly above her, going for intimidating.

She glanced up at him and snorted, "I'm a witch, why, what are you?"

"Hunters," Sam answered, coming down the stairs.

"Ahh, that makes even more sense," she hummed, running a hand through her hair and wincing before pulling her hand back and finding blood on her fingertips.

"The witches we fought with never had wands," Sam continued, coming to a stop next to his brother.

"Well, then they weren't witches," she chirped, "Witches and wizards are born with magic, they go to schools for proper training, they get wands and are actually competent with magic. These so-called witches you were fighting with probably sold their souls or something for a few powers that – in all honesty – probably couldn't even be called powers." At their blank looks, she grimaced, "I did a research paper over your fake witches in college."

"Wizards have colleges?" Sam asked with a blink.

"Oh, yes, but I went to a Muggle one – normal one," she corrected, taking off her outer blue button-up shirt and pressing it up to her head wound, leaving her in an orange tank top. "Wizarding colleges have few subjects – they're all basically training facilities for jobs. You see, I'm a Muggleborn, my parents are normal, but I was born a witch."

"What's a Mudblood?" Dean questioned, startling her enough that she paled and blinked at him. "You have a tattoo of it on your arm."

"Not a tattoo," she pursed her lips, running her fingers over the dark, raised lines, "You see, there was this very awful War. This group of people called Death Eaters thought that anyone who wasn't Pureblooded had dirty blood – 'Mudblood.' It's a foul, awful name. They killed a lot of people. My friends, Harry and Ron, and I tried to stop their leader, Voldemort. We were captured once and…" She took a deep breath, staring very hard down at the lines, "This woman, Bellatrix Lestrange, she was certifiably insane. She tortured me and carved it into my arm." She returned her shirt to her head as Castiel reappeared with her wand in his hand. "Thank you, Castiel."

He nodded and handed it to her, watching as she pulled her hair back and wordlessly healed her injuries.

"She held you down and _carved_ a word into your arm?" Dean blinked down at her, "Why?"

"She was certifiably insane, wanted information, hated my guts, take your pick," she sniffed, working on a cut in her side.

"Why can't you heal it?" Sam asked.

"The blade she used had dark magic," Castiel answered instead, "She can't heal it."

"Point one to the man in the trench coat!" Hermione hummed before standing, taking a moment to wobble before she got her balance back. "Now, tell me where I am so I can get out of here."

Dean and Sam shared a look before Castiel spoke up. "No."

"No?" she repeated curiously, "And why not?"

"We need you," he answered.

"You do?" "We do?"

"Yes," Castiel nodded, "Soon, but not yet." He led the way up the staircase, Dean and Hermione not far behind him.

"Whoa, Cas, who says we need her?" Dean questioned as they walked through the kitchen.

"God," he answered coolly.

"Why? What do you know?" Hermione questioned.

He turned, stopping abruptly, making Hermione tilt her head up to look at him. "Hermione, you are in danger. The Winchesters will protect you while I sort out things."

"Whoa, I'm not about to be _babysat_," she glared up at him, "Listen here, I am not about to be bossed around by three men who I just met after they've beaten me up, captured me, and almost gave me a trial – which I do _not_ want to know what you were even thinking about doing, by the way – so whatever 'danger' you believe I'm in can just go and take a nice walk through Fuck-Thatville and catch the Nope-train because I'm not bothering with it."

"How long do you spend on the Internet?" Sam asked lightly.

"Far too much," she sighed, "I research and somehow end up on a blogging forum. In any case – let me out of here and leave me alone." She brushed past Castiel before his hand darted out and gripped her arm.

"I am your guardian, your protector, and I will not let you go and foolishly endanger your well-being," he insisted.

"Well listen up, _protector,_" she glared, "I don't remember you being there that night when I was beaten and abused. I don't remember you there that night when I was screaming out for help and all I got were laughs. I don't remember you being there when I was twelve and facing a giant snake that could've killed me if I'd looked it in the eyes. So excuse me, but I'm a big girl and don't need your _protection_," she ripped her arm free from him and moved to the front door.

"Wait, Miss Granger!" Sam called, startling her enough that she paused, blinked, and turned around to him as Dean warily watched his younger brother. "While I agree that you could take care of yourself, if you leave, then Cas won't tell us anything more on the subject and will spend all of his time watching out for you. If you stay, we may be able to get a better understanding of whatever danger this is and stop it sooner."

She looked dully at him and crossed her arms over her chest, "You're only guessing."

"So?" he tried.

She sighed and looked up to the ceiling, "Is it really a location-specific type of imprisonment, or can I go anywhere with you two with me?"

"Location-specific," Castiel said with a slight smile, disappearing when a vase that they didn't even think they had went right through where his head had been.


	2. But That Doesn't Mean That I Am Dead

"Three-headed dogs are real?"

She laughed, "Yes, they are. I had to sneak past one in my first year – its name was Fluffy. Our groundskeeper had a knack for naming the most dangerous creatures something you might name a cat." She gasped, "Oh, my cats! I forgot all about my - "

"Castiel said he'd take care of them," Sam promised. "What other creatures were there?"

"That he named? Oh, let's see…a hippogriff named Buckbeak, not exactly dangerous if you know how to handle them…he had a giant half-brother that was named Grawp – Harry and I had to watch over him once, not fun, he called me 'Hermy' – oh, and Norbert."

"What was Norbert?"

"A dragon."

"A motherfucking _dragon?_" Dean crowed, finally announcing to them that he was awake and listening, "Dragons are _real?_"

"Mm-hm," she gave a smug little grin as he sat up from the couch and looked over her in the kitchen with Sam, his hair messed up and his clothes ruffled, "Harry had to fight a full-grown one in the Tri-Wizard Tournament."

"Jesus Christ!" Dean gaped, "How old was he?"

"Oh, fourteen," she flicked off a crumb from the table dully as Dean and Sam shared glances, "Someone entered his name attempting to kill him."

"What the actual _fuck?_" Dean asked, standing and making his way over to them, pulling out a chair and turning it around so he could sit and lean against the back of it.

Hermione snorted and grinned, bringing a mug to her lips, "Tell me about it. That was mainly what was running through my head throughout my entire Hogwarts career."

"Wait, whoa – Hogwarts?" Sam asked.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry – it's in Scotland," she chirped happily before turning to Dean, "You like tea?"

"Tea?" he asked carefully, "Is it from Long Island and iced?"

She snorted and stood, digging around in a cabinet to grab a mismatched mug and then a small box. "I told Castiel to bring me tea – he got gingerbread, and although it's not what I wanted, it is surprisingly good."

"Isn't that a little bit stereotypical?" he asked, watching her hands work as she grabbed a small packet and put it in the mug, pouring the water in as well before stirring it.

"We're British – we take tea _very_ seriously," she said with a small smile. She'd been staying with Dean and Sam for a couple of weeks, and this was the first night that the group had finally warmed up to each other. The boys didn't quite know what to do with her and she didn't quite know what to do with the boys. The house they were staying in had been abandoned and forgotten, and Hermione had fixed it up within the span of three hours, and put enough wards around it that Dumbledore himself couldn't get in. Dean and Sam had shown her some strange markings that were meant to keep out demons and other 'scary things,' and so she made up a spell that was basically those signs repeated over and over again magically.

Hermione handed Dean the mug and returned to her seat, "Yeah, I would never really tell my parents what went on at school, they would probably pull me out and attempt to homeschool me."

"Have you told them since?" Sam asked.

Hermione's face darkened and she looked down into the mug, "No. See, the War got bad and so Harry, Ron and I went on the run. I modified my parents' memories and hid them in Australia. I went back afterwards, trying to find them, but they'd moved. I looked for ages but I couldn't…" She sighed and shook her head, "I doubt I would give them their memories back. They looked happy before I left, I couldn't take that away from them."

"But what about you?" Dean asked.

"What about me?" she said with a small grin, "They nearly got a divorce because of me – why bring that back into their lives?"

"Divorce?" Sam asked.

"Yeah – one wanted me to go to Muggle school, the other wanted me to stay at Hogwarts," she hummed, taking a sip of her tea, "I never could tell which one wanted what, never did say – or, rather, yell. Then that just opened up all of these other frustrations they had with one another. It never came to blows though – I suppose I was thankful."

"So who hit you?" Dean questioned, making her head jerk up and stare at him as Sam looked between the two. "You know, I was only guessing until your reaction."

She pursed her lips and stood to pour the rest of her tea in the sink, "A more appropriate question would be who _didn't_ hit me." She sighed, turned around, and leaned against the counter, looking as if the weight of the world was entirely on her shoulders, "My first boyfriend, Ron, only hit my self-esteem, even as we were growing up. I broke it off, we're still somewhat good friends now. My next one, Isaiah O'Briens, broke my ribs once. I broke his jaw and broke it off then. Then my last one, Jeffry Davis, beat me about five times a day. For some reason I was so incredibly stupid and believed that it was all my fault. Then one day he tried to kill me, he got on top of me and pressed his knees into my chest and wrapped his hands around my throat and so I kicked him in the crotch and hexed him and ran off." Her jaw clenched and she frowned at the tile, "I should've called the police or something. At the very least Obliviated him. I didn't think he'd call hunters to come and get me."

"It's kind of a low-profile business," Dean said before arching an eyebrow at her, "No one should have to go through what you did."

She smiled and shrugged, "Better me than anyone else, I suppose." She pushed off from the counter and patted Dean's shoulder in passing, "I'm heading up to bed – night boys."

"Night, Hermione," they chorused.


	3. Maybe You Can Right All Your Wrongs

Dean watched Hermione curiously as she poured the popcorn into a bowl and then placed a mug into the microwave, waiting for it to beep before she took the mug and poured it over the popcorn with a slight smile on her face. Sam was locked up in his room, trying to figure out whatever "danger" they were all in, and Dean had asked him if he wanted to watch a movie. When he'd said no, he'd gone out on a limb and asked Hermione, who smiled and agreed before going into the kitchen and making her bizarre snack. She plopped onto the couch next to him and handed him the bag of regular popcorn as he curiously eyed hers. Apparently, she'd added melted chocolate to it.

"I know it's weird but I don't care," she said, apparently having caught him staring, happily popping a piece into her mouth and chewing.

"Granger, don't take this the wrong way, but…" She paused and looked to him, "Are you pregnant?"

She frowned and swallowed, "No, seeing as I've been trapped in this house with you and Sam for about a month and a half, and Sam is adorably frightened of me so therefore won't make a move and I probably wouldn't let you touch me, and if I'd been impregnated before my imprisonment I would be showing by this stage – especially in this." Ahh, good, she did know the tank top was tight and incredibly distracting.

"You're eating like a pregnant chick," he hummed, turning his attention to the screen as he propped his long legs up on the coffee table and she curled hers up against the bowl.

"I know," she grinned when he arched an eyebrow over in her direction, "Not from first-hand experience – my friend, Ginny, was pregnant." She winced and looked down at the popcorn, "Probably not, anymore. God, they probably think I'm dead or something."

"I'm sure Castiel told them something, don't worry about it," Dean waved the worry away, "So, tell me – were all your boy-toys magical?"

"Just Ron," she hummed.

"Why?" he blinked.

"They were abusive – imagine them with powers," she arched an eyebrow at him before turning back to the screen, "I am good, but I couldn't hurt someone I cared about. I only hexed Jeff because he was murderous and knew anyway – Isaiah didn't last as long, so I didn't tell him."

"How long were you with the last guy?"

"Ohh…I want to say nearly three years, but not as long…" she blinked, "Dear God, I wasted three years of my life with that bastard."

"Why did you stay with him?" Dean asked incredulously.

She sighed, "Why they all stay – self-esteem issues, 'where will I go', denial, fear…never love with us though. I don't think we ever said it." She blinked before frowning at him, "Stop that. I'm healing – leave me alone about it." He knew she was teasing by the slight upward curve of her lips. He shrugged and they were silent, watching the movie together, before she continued, "I ran away, you know."

"I know," he murmured, "He told me when he hired us. Expected us to bring you back – sorry to tell you, Sweetheart, but we weren't going to."

"Good," she said in a strange tone of voice, "I would've rather died than gone back to him."

"Whoa," Dean blinked, "This just suddenly became serious."

She snorted and grinned, getting back a little light in her eyes, "Yeah, tell me about it. You and Sam keep asking everything about me, but I barely know you two." She turned away from the screen, leaned closer to him, and raised her eyebrows.

"Want to do a question and answer?" he asked, movie long forgotten now. "I ask, you answer, you ask, I answer?"

"Fair enough," she hummed, "What was your childhood like?"

He scowled, "Horrible. After our mom died, Dad became obsessed with getting revenge." Dean winced, "I kind of picked up some of his habits. Sam, thankfully, never did. Sam and I talked about it a few years ago and decided that I'd stay in whatever town Sam would be going to college in and take care of him. Dad threw a fit. Left. Haven't talked to him since. What was your childhood like?"

She sighed, "Awful. I was picked on constantly, because of my teeth, my hair, my personality – there really was no escape. I thought Hogwarts would be my ticket – nope. Got picked on more, actually, but they tacked on my background, blood status, and how good I was in classes. I am, literally, the brightest witch of my generation. My whole life has just been one big pile of hate with a few moments that gave me hope before it was suddenly squashed into oblivion. Now, ahh…how did you meet Castiel?"

"Cas met us," Dean snorted, "See, I went to Hell and Angel Boy pulled me out." She blinked at him, "Yeah, I died and everything – anyway, Cas pops in this totally staged appearance, and tells me that the only reason I'm alive is because God has work for me. Uhh…alright, this can make or break our friendship."

"Oh Merlin, the pressure is killing me," she deadpanned with a slight grin.

"Favorite band?" he asked.

She blinked at the simple question and thought for a moment, "It varies. I grew up on classical rock, and so I guess that's what I show favoritism to, but I'm not all that picky. Except rap and hip-hop, I can't stand those. And anything that's repetitive and annoying. Like _really_, 'Call Me Maybe' should not have been invented. Ahh – how did you die?"

"Apparently I got ripped apart by hellhounds," he shrugged as she blinked again, "So you lived with that Jeff guy for three years?"

"This brings a sense of déjà vu," she teased before sighing, "Nearly, I think. We started out as roommates that got serious. Thankfully I never slept with him – I would hate to imagine a child being brought into that, accidental or planned."

"You lived with a guy for three years and never slept with him?" Dean questioned disbelievingly.

"Hey, it's my turn," she grinned cheekily, "Ahh – what're your thoughts on Angel Boy?"

"Compared to the other angels, he's alright – he has a better understanding of humanity and mortals than you would think, compared to them, but he's working on it. My last question now, please."

She sighed, "No, I never slept with him. Never slept with anyone, actually." She blinked when he choked on his popcorn and coughed before looking up at her with bleary eyes.

"You've never had sex?" he asked, "You're still a virgin?"

"There's really only one way to understand what I just said," she frowned. "I'm really big on waiting until – hey!" She threw a piece of popcorn at him, "It was my turn! You took my turn!" Dean huffed and looked pointedly at her as she thought, "Err – biggest pet peeve?"

"Not getting answers to my questions." She frowned at him. "No, really! I hate it when people dodge around and go off-topic or ignore me completely. Like, Jesus Christ, I'm doing this for a reason; I'm not really all that interested in your personal lives. How could you not have sex ever?"

"Why not?" she shrugged, "I mean, I've never had it, how would I know if I were missing anything? Besides, the white in the wedding dress actually stands for something. Why would you have to ask about someone's personal life?"

"Ahh, we sometimes act like crime scene investigators to try to get demons or whatever," he shrugged, "We're probably not too good at it. We ask some pretty weird questions. 'Has your spouse/girlfriend/boyfriend/child/sibling/cousin/c at recently taken an interest in the occult?'"

Hermione chuckled, grinning back at him, "It could use some work. Why do you two keep hunting?"

"Honestly? I don't know. Habit, I guess. This is the longest we've ever been stationary." He tilted his head back and spread his arms along the back of the couch, accidentally hitting a curl, a small smile stretching across his face as he watched her watching him, "It's nice."

She smiled back, "So stay, then."

"Maybe." His hand finally reached and grabbed a curl, making her freeze for a moment before she convinced her body that he wasn't going to hurt her. He twisted the curl around on his finger and watched as it sprung back into place again and again. "Why did people make fun of your hair?"

"I don't know – to be mean, I guess," she sighed, "It was huge and this giant bushy mess, I never could brush through it." She smiled a little, "Why are you playing with my hair?"

"I like your hair," he answered truthfully, "It's fun. Girl's hair is always fun to play with – you'll never see me or Sam playing with each other's hair. Why'd you flinch?"

"I got out of a line of abusive relationships, Dean, why do you think I flinched?" she sighed. "Why do we keep coming back to this conversation?"

"Because I'm still trying to get over the fact that someone was that heartless to do that to you, let alone two. Do you want me to stop?"

"Asking about it or playing with my hair?"

"Either."

She thought for a few moments and sighed, "No. It's fine – I'm over it. And girls like it when guys play with their hair anyway, we just don't want you knowing."

"Why not?" he asked in amusement.

"I don't bloody know," she huffed, "Some stupid universally recognized law, I guess. Like – like makeup. I think I missed that growing up – I have no idea how makeup works. If you ever see me with makeup on, quickly question me, because either it's not me or I got someone to do it for me, in which case I will have complained about it excessively beforehand." Dean chuckled and she smiled, shutting her eyes and leaning against the cushion, her shoulder touching his arm. "What would you be doing if you weren't hunting?"

"I don't really know," he answered as he slowly guided her into him, as her breathing had started to level out. He took the bowl of her weird popcorn and set it on the table to his left, taking the bag and setting it there as well.

He kept playing with the curls, staring off at the same direction of the screen while she slept, raising his head up after a long while when someone asked "What movie were you watching? Must've been dull."

"I don't even know," he murmured before seeing his brother's arched eyebrow, "She's asleep."

"Ah," Sam said in a quieter tone, taking an armchair and looking at the two. Hermione had draped an arm over Dean's torso, her other arm a pillow of sorts, Dean's hand still running through her hair. "You two look cozy." He grinned at Dean's glare before something behind him made him blink, Dean twisting his head when Castiel strode over and blinked down at the young witch nestled into the hunter's side.

"She'll have nightmares," he warned, eyeing Dean carefully, "She always does."

"Well, I figure that considering she's been through a war, she'll have reflexes, and I'm not willing to test her reflexes by waking her up or moving her," Dean rattled off, "However, either of you are welcomed to test them." The three were silent before Sam stood and handed Dean a blanket before heading back up to his room.

"She's been through a lot, Dean," Castiel commented.

"I know, Angel Boy," he sighed, "She told me." He glanced up again and Castiel was gone, leaving him to unfold the blanket Sam had given him and drape it across both him and her. He reached and flicked the light off, then the TV, then angled himself a little without disturbing her so that one leg was on the couch and the other wasn't. He fell asleep with his finger weaving through a curl.


	4. And It Did Our Thinking Well

"Cas isn't going to be happy about this!"

"Oy, what, Cas makes your decisions now too? Look, I have been trapped in this house for nearly three months. I'm going out, even if it is just the grocery store."

Dean grinned back at Sam as he grabbed both of their coats, throwing it at him as Hermione donned her own, pulling her hair out from under the collar.

"Relax, Sammy, Angel Boy won't even notice we're missing," Dean smirked, grabbing his brother's arm and dragging him outside. Hermione stopped and grabbed their arms, making them blink down at her as she grinned and popped them both away with her. They spent a few minutes gagging and groaning about the experience before finally heading inside the store. Not even fifteen minutes in, Hermione was lifted up into the air, making her give a small scream while Dean and Sam whirled around to see the threat before Hermione began to laugh.

"Harry James Potter!" she grinned as the man squeezed her tightly, her feet still not touching the ground, "Harry, put me down!"

"No, you'll disappear again!" he exclaimed before setting her down anyway, readjusting his round glasses before grinning happily at her and pulling her back into another hug, "Where in the world have you been?"

"Somewhere in America – top secret, hush-hush business," she teased.

"We thought Jeffry did something to you," Harry said, his face darkening. "You could've called or something."

"Technology would've thrown off the wards I have on the house – so no," she hummed, neglecting to tell him that Jeffry actually did something to her.

"So – ahh?" Dean questioned, looking at Hermione pointedly as she blinked up at him.

"Oh, Harry, this is Dean and Sam Winchester, we've been put under house arrest by a paranoid angel," she grinned as he blinked back.

"Well then," he snorted, "I guess that's a good reason. Hey, can you three come to the Burrow tonight?"

Hermione brightened before she looked curiously to Dean and Sam, pouting just a little as the brothers shared glances before Sam sighed and ruffled up her hair, "I suppose so. But if Cas notices, we're blaming you."

She chuckled, "Fair enough."

* * *

"Hermione!"

"Hermione Granger!"

"Oy, I thought your weirdo boyfriend did something to you!"

"Oh dear, you look a bit peaky, eat a biscuit."

Hermione laughed as all of these different people hugged and squeezed her, a few little ones hanging around her ankles. Dean and Sam hung back awkwardly as Harry put up both his and Hermione's coats on a rack.

"There's so many gingers," Dean murmured up to Sam.

Harry heard and chuckled, "And it's an ever expanding lot. Hold on, we'll try to sort everyone out and get introductions out of the way." Harry walked past Hermione, going up the stairs two at a time as Hermione finally pulled away and pulled Dean and Sam in.

"Guys, this is Dean and Sam Winchester," Hermione smiled, wrapping her arms through their arms, "They're my friends."

"So _you're_ the ones that kidnapped Granger," a redhead frowned, his twin rolling up his sleeves.

"I highly doubt she'd call them friends if they kidnapped her, George," a man with scars laughed.

Hermione rolled her eyes and grinned back at the two boys, "This is George and Fred, Bill, Charlie's in Romania – dragon reservation," she smirked when their mouths dropped open, "Missus Weasley, Mister Weasley, Percy and his wife, Audrey, Bill's wife Fleur, their daughters Victoire and Dominique, then Angelina is Fred's girlfriend, then Ron and Lavender, and – "

"Jane," Harry called out, a little pink bundle in his arms as Hermione froze before taking two steps forward, gaping at her before grinning back at Harry as he settled the little girl in her arms.

"Oh Harry, she's beautiful," Hermione smiled down at the little girl with tufts of black hair and brown eyes.

"She better be, considering who she's named after," Harry smiled.

"Who?" she blinked.

Harry froze for a moment, "Err – you, Hermione." Hermione arched an eyebrow at him, "Your middle name _is_ Jane, right?"

"No," she said slowly, "It's _Jean._" Harry whirled around and glared at Ron, making Hermione chuckle, "It's fine, Harry, I appreciate the sentiment, even if you were…misguided."

"God, she's so tiny," Dean blinked over her shoulder.

"You want to hold her?" Harry asked.

"Oh God, no," Sam and Dean chorused.

"At least let us get a picture of our daughter being held by her godmother," Ginny said, appearing in the doorway with the magical camera, capturing the look on Hermione's face perfectly.

"I'm her – oh, Ginny!" she beamed, reaching an arm out to hug the younger girl. "This is – I can't believe I – aww," she hugged her once again, the redheaded girl laughing and kissing the brunette's cheek.

"Well, we figured that considering you're the only one not related to us by blood, we needed a special tie to keep you with us so you wouldn't leave," Ginny grinned, "Look at how adorable she is, you'd never be able to say no to her."

Fred snorted, smiling a little, "Ginny just popped her out a little too late, didn't she?" The group chuckled as Hermione winced and grimaced.

"Hey, we know you probably have a reason for disappearing on us," George soothed before he leaning closer to her a little, "So, tell me, are you single yet, or do I need to wait longer?"

Hermione snorted and rolled her eyes at him, "Yes, I am single, and yes, you need to wait _much_ longer."

"Brilliant! What made you call it off with Baron Von Psycho?" Fred questioned.

"He tried to kill her," Dean answered calmly. There were a few brief seconds of absolute silence before Hermione was handing Jane off to Ginny and tugging on shirt sleeves and yelling at wizards that they could not go and murder the bastard because she wasn't getting them out of Azkaban. When that was all settled down with Dean and Sam glancing at one another carefully, Hermione sighed and reached for Jane before pushing Sam into a seat on the couch, settling the little girl in his arms before he could protest.

"Hermione, I uhm – that is, I don't – uhh," he tried to stammer before the little thing cooed and reached a pudgy hand up to give a few gentle yanks on his hair. "Oh my God."

Hermione grinned and sat on the coffee table in front of him, watching as Jane giggled and patted his chin.

"Heart melting?" Dean teased.

"It's a puddle of goo right now," Sam stated with a giant grin on his face. He glanced up at Dean before looking to Hermione, who caught the look and nodded before taking Jane gently away from Sam before the youngest Winchester reached up and yanked Dean into the seat beside him, Hermione settling a knee on his leg to keep him from kicking her as she settled Jane into his arms.

"Well," Fleur said smugly, "It seems that she likes foreign men." Hermione, the twins, Ginny and Bill all snorted and coughed and laughed while Harry stiffened.

"Don't worry," Bill grinned, settling a hand on his shoulder, "You'll get used to that feeling."

"But I don't want to," he grimaced.

"So, how did you two like your school?" Percy asked politely.

"Ahh – we kind of went everywhere growing up," Sam shrugged.

"Really? Wouldn't there be a big language barrier from school to school?" Audrey questioned. "I mean, none of us really remember any Americans in Hogwarts."

"Oh, uhm, they're not…err, that is to say that they're…." Hermione faltered and glanced back at Sam and Dean before Harry pieced it together.

"They're Muggles?" he gaped as Arthur perked up.

"Muggles, really?" he asked excitedly. "In my house? Oh, this is terribly exciting!"

"Dad, please, control yourself," Ron sighed.

Hermione grimaced and coughed before grinning sheepishly to her second family as they frowned and arched eyebrows. "I can explain."

The three stayed and explained as much as they could to the family before they left, Hermione pouting down at Jane before she reluctantly gave her back to Ginny and popped off with Dean and Sam, only to find an angry Castiel in the living room.

"You disappeared," he glared, "I'd thought you three were captured."

"We were at the Weasleys," Sam stated, "They were fine."

"Was there anyone else there?"

"No, just family – why?" she asked skeptically, as he visibly relaxed when she spoke.

"Just – please do not leave again," he frowned, "The threat is very real." Without waiting for a response, he disappeared, making Hermione roll her eyes and shrug off her coat.

"If the threat was so bloody real, you should ruddy _tell us!_" she shouted at the ceiling.

"Uhh," Sam interjected, "I don't think it works like that."


	5. We Lived Our Lives

"Don't fucking touch him."

Dean opened his eyes to see a pale hand moving away from his face, turning back to Hermione. They'd agreed that it was a nice day out and decided that walking was a good idea, but Sam had disagreed and said that "inside good, outside bad" and had been in the living room yelling at his burning sim when they left. Since Hermione had her wand, Dean hadn't thought to bring a gun, which felt weird and different for him, but not altogether unpleasant. They'd been captured on the way back, and that was the last thing he remembered.

Hermione was chained in the middle of the room, her arms chained to the floor, cuts and scratches already over her, blood dripping down her face from a cut on her forehead. She was glaring at the owner of the hand, and Dean looked around to see where they were. It was stone, with a high window showing grass, which meant they were in some type of basement somewhere. It was dark, which meant it had been a few hours since they left the house, and Sam would be freaking out.

"I knew the filthy little Mudblood couldn't stay away from Muggles," the man said, chuckling and squeezing her cheeks as she glared at him. "So much easier to get past than powerful wizards."

"A first year would be more powerful than you, Rodolphus," she spat before gritting her teeth and turning her head when he raised his fist.

"Don't you dare hurt her!" Dean called out, making him pause and turn back to him to smile lightly.

"Ahh, so you are awake," he smirked, "Good. Now you get to watch the Mudblood bitch get what she deserves." The man, Rodolphus, pulled out his wand and Hermione's eyes widened as he pointed it at her. "_Crucio._"

Hermione gritted her teeth and clenched her fists, but continued to glare at Rodolphus. When he lowered his wand, she was breathing heavily, but still managed out "Is that all you've got?"

But he just smirked and raised his wand again. "_Crucio._"

Hermione's mouth opened but no sound came out, and she collapsed against the stone and tilted her head back as she shook a little.

"Stop, stop it, damn it, you're hurting her!" Dean yelled.

"Do you want to show your boy toy, Granger, _all that I've got?_" He pointed his wand with a renewed vigor and a strange light came to his eyes. "_Crucio!_"

This time, Hermione tossed her head back and let out a heart-wrenching scream, arching her back, trying to escape the pain as she clawed the stone floor.

"Oh, but wait, there's more," Rodolphus smirked, grabbing her chin and hoisting her up, but she wouldn't look at him – she kept looking to Dean worriedly. "_Intemporaliter aegar."_ Hermione gasped and hung her head, attempting to soothe whatever pain was there with her shoulders before there was a loud bang, and Rodolphus was on the floor. Dean looked up at the high window, seeing Castiel and Sam peering in at them before Sam began to shimmy his way in, Cas simply appearing and unlocking Dean with a quick wave of his hand, kneeling in front of Hermione as she shook and continued to hold her head.

"Hermione, what happened?" Cas questioned as Sam landed on the floor and patted Dean's shoulder before watching as Dean kneeled next to the angel and took the witch's face in his hands.

"He said something – in temporal eager?" Dean asked before blinking when all the color drained from Sam's face. "Why, what does that mean?"

"Intemporaliter aeger?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, what is it?" Dean asked worriedly.

"Dean, its Latin for _eternally sick._"


	6. But We Didn't Know That Love Was Bigger

Dean turned and looked up at Cas from the couch, Sam standing to await whatever news he had brought.

"She is…sick," Cas frowned, "I've tried everything in my power to help. It will continue to hurt her until she dies."

"So, what, she's just sick for the rest of her life?" Dean blinked.

"It won't last long, Dean."

He paused before frowning, "Please tell me that it's not killing her."

"That'd be a lie," he said as Sam sat back down and held his face in his hands.

Dean was silent before he stood and walked up the stairs, knocking before entering and finding her asleep and pale, small scars and bruises fading from her skin. He kneeled next to her bed, playing with a few strands of her hair before sighing and clasping his hands, placing his forehead there.

"Please, just help her. She's been through so much already, regardless of this. Don't make her suffer even more because I wanted to go walk around for a bit. Somebody up there, please, help her."

* * *

"Look, Bobby, we've got a friend, and we were wondering if you knew of someway to heal them."

"_Not a doctor_," he grumbled from the other end.

"This isn't some common cold, Bobby," Dean stated, "A dark wizard got to her. Said some spell and apparently she'll be sick for the rest of her life – and not some sore throat, headache sick – she can barely get out of bed."

"_Then I'm no help, boys,_" he said after a pause, "_From what Sammy tells me about your little girlfriend, she's powerful enough to be able to fix herself if it could be fixed. What'd Castiel say?_"

"She doesn't have long to live," Sam announced as a thumping sound was heard overhead, making Dean sigh and stand.

"Find somebody who could help, I've got to go," he said, going up the staircase and opening the door to find her sitting on the floor with her back against the side of her bed, holding her head in her hands and breathing heavily. "Hermione, you can't – "

"No, just," she cut him off, holding up a hand, "Just stop. I can do this." She began to reach for the corner of the bed to help her stand, wobbling as Dean moved to guide her and catch her if she fell. She was nearly standing upright before she collapsed into his chest, making Dean scoop her up and settle her back into bed.

"Hermione," he sighed when she huffed and pouted, "You're sick."

"I can get over it," she insisted before going into a coughing fit, doubling over and clamping her hand over her mouth, tugging her knees up.

Dean rubbed her back, looking at her worriedly, "You so sure about that?"

She spoke hoarsely, still with her hand over her mouth, "I was in a war, I fought back, I got over abusive boyfriends, I can get over being sick." She pulled her hand away, sucking in a breath when she saw the blood on her palm.


	7. It's Like Forgetting the Words

"Hey, Honey, how you feeling?"

"Gabriel? You called in _Gabriel?_" Sam asked as Dean stood and glared at the archangel. He would've done the same, but Hermione's legs were thrown over his and she was leaning against his shoulder.

"Relax, down boy," Gabriel smirked at Dean as Castiel looked worriedly over at Hermione, as she hadn't even looked up from the collar on Sam's jacket. "Baby brother over here asked me to take a look at your little…_friend_." Dean crossed his arms over his chest and frowned at him. "If you want her better, you'll have to let me look her over," he pointed out.

"You touch her, you hurt her, you send her somewhere or you turn her into something, and I'll break your wings in half," Dean warned before he turned away, watching as the archangel plopped into his former spot.

"So, witchy-poo, heard your name was Hermione? You wouldn't happen to be Hermione Granger, would you?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said softly, not even looking up.

"Do you think I could get your autograph?" he asked excitedly before noticing the two Winchesters' glares. He grinned back and gently took her face into his hand, making her turn to look at him. His smile dropped when he looked into her eyes, "Oh man, Honey, they really drained you, didn't they?"

She didn't say anything, just simply stared at him.

"You can fix her, can't you?" Sam questioned.

"Depends," he said, letting her lean against Sam's shoulder again, patting her hair.

"On?" Dean ventured.

"How much our family likes us," he said, looking over to Cas, arching an eyebrow, "And how much Castiel likes his daughter."

"Daughter?" Sam and Dean chorused.

"Relax, he's just really overprotective of her," Gabriel said as he stood, "More so than normal angels get over their people. Since her parents don't remember her, Cas is her 'father.' Well, to me, anyway. It's a lot more fun than 'guardian angel' or 'protector' – certainly since Hermione Granger doesn't need to be protected."

"Is she that popular up there that you know her?" Dean asked.

"Up there?" Gabriel repeated in surprise, "Dean, boychik, she's popular everywhere except the Muggle world! Why do you think she went there? All the other angels nearly killed Castiel to be her guardian!"

"Gabriel," Castiel frowned, "We need to hurry, and ask for help."

"Right, right – I still need my autograph," Gabriel nodded before disappearing, Castiel giving a lengthy sigh before doing the same.


	8. to Your Favorite Song

"Shouldn't the angels have done something by now?"

Sam looked worriedly at his brother, watching as he paced back and forth in the living room.

"It's been weeks! She should be back to herself by now, they should've done something, she's getting worse!" he exclaimed, waving wildly upstairs before taking a few breaths and tugging at his hair, "Sam, what if she – "

"Don't say that," he stated before standing, sighing and patting his brother on the shoulder, "I'm going to go check on her. Don't worry about it – the angels will help." He gave a smile and walked up the stairs, leaving Dean to sit on the couch and run his hands over his face. He wasn't sure when the last time he'd slept properly had been. Maybe days, he wasn't certain. He leaned his head against the back cushion and sighed, shutting his eyes until Sam called out "_Dean!_" He was up and running up the stairs, shoving aside her door and staring as Sam urgently pressed two fingers to her neck, her eyes shut and her hair splayed out.

"Hermione, please wake up, please wake up," he begged as Dean rushed to his side as well, somebody pulled him aside before doing the same to Sam.

Gabriel was keeping the brothers back as Castiel worked over her before he decided that shoving them out of the room completely was the best choice, shutting and leaning against the door to keep them out.

"C'mon Hermione, c'mon Hermione, c'mon Hermione," they heard him mutter, Dean staring at the door as if he could see through it. "These boys can't take it if you're gone."

There was a loud gasp and ragged coughing before Gabriel sighed and opened the door for them, letting them run into the room to see Hermione sitting up with her hand pressed to her chest, breathing deeply before glaring at Castiel, looking better than she had in a month. "Could've – warned – me," she panted before she had three different bodies pushing her back into her mattress, surprised that Castiel was the first one hugging her. "Boys, boys, boys, can't breathe!" They immediately backed away, leaving her grinning and chuckling, "I love you all too, but _Merlin_ – let me catch my breath." She tossed the covers back and carefully stood, stretching and sighing before she ruffled up her hair, grinning at the three as Gabriel leaned against the wall. "Alright, I'm prepared, you may hug me."

"Don't _ever_ scare us like that again," Sam decided, picking her up off of the floor and hugging her tightly before setting her back down on her feet.

Castiel hugged her next, sighing and shaking his head, "Of all the things you have been through…."

She chuckled and pecked his cheek, grinning back at him as he blinked, "Thank you, Castiel. I'm really glad that you're my guardian angel, and I appreciate how hard you must work, especially with me."

"Hey, I want one," Dean pouted.

"Me too!" Sam agreed with a grin.

"I'll take one with a little bit of tongue, honey," Gabriel announced before he noticed her glare. "Hey, I helped too!"

She rolled her eyes before turning and grinning at Dean, hugging him tightly as he did the same, "Thanks, Wonder Boy, but you didn't need to worry about me so much."

"Yeah, we did," they all seemed to chorused, making Hermione pull away and lightly slap his chest, making him laugh and hug her again.


	9. You Can't Believe It

"Stop staring at me."

Dean blinked and caught her playfully frowning at him as she took another bite from her burger. Castiel had stated that she needed to eat and had reappeared with a bag of burgers. She'd sighed and grabbed one from the bag, unwrapping and eating it while Castiel went to go find Gabriel and Sam went to go grab his laptop.

"Why?" he asked.

"I look like shit," she muttered through her food, brushing her hair back and pulling her legs into the chair with her, dressed in quarter leggings and a baggy shirt, her hair flying in practically every direction possible.

"So? You've looked like shit for the better part of the month, and you start caring now?" Dean blinked as she huffed.

"I was a little preoccupied for the better part of the month, what with dying and everything," she caught his slight grimace and chose to ignore it, pulling out a leaf of lettuce and dropping it on the wrapper in disdain. "If you're going to put lettuce on a burger, it better be crunchy and not slimy, in my opinion."

"Yeah," Dean snorted, reaching into the bag to pull out a burger for himself, "Welcome to America." He pit into the burger and shrugged, "Sammy and I are used to crap fast food though. You eat what you get."

"That and you two eat like you haven't seen food in years," she grinned.

"Says she who is on her second burger."

Hermione froze mid-chew and glared at him as he smiled back, keeping his eyes trained on his burger before something wet hit him in the forehead. She began to laugh as he blinked and pulled the limp lettuce leaf off of his forehead, frowning at her as she laughed into her elbow.

"What happened?" Sam asked skeptically, carrying his laptop and looking between the two warily.

"It stuck," Hermione said through her laughs as Sam looked back to Dean, who had tossed the lettuce on his own wrapper and glared at her.

"That explains the ketchup on Dean's forehead," he grinned before sitting and pushing his laptop across the table so that all three could see it, "I did some researching – "

"When do you _not_?" Dean interrupted before Hermione patted Sam's shoulder and urged him to continue.

"So I did some researching and found that there's a weird case of a reappearing telephone box throughout history."

"Telephone box?" Dean echoed while Hermione shrugged.

"You pass by one every street in London – one even leads to the Ministry for Magic," she hummed, taking another bite, "Nothing exciting."

"Except this is a blue telephone box from the nineteen sixties and it's shown up on things from ancient Rome, pictures from Beatles concerts, there was even mention of something like that in Greek plays."

"Mmkay," Hermione mumbled, "That sounds exciting."

"In a Shakespearean sonnet, he talks about a 'black beauty' which could be mentioning someone of African descent, but in that time period there weren't any black people in England," Sam was speaking eagerly, "There are several different girls with several different guys, but all with the same blue box. One of these girls could've been black."

"Shape shifters?" Dean arched an eyebrow at his brother.

"That's what I'm thinking – but what about the telephone box?" he arched one back.

"You two got a cell phone?" Hermione asked, wiping her hands on a napkin and taking the phone from Dean, pressing a few buttons before holding the device to her head. "Luna, lovely, do you have anything on a blue telephone box from the nineteen sixties? Yeah, I can wait." She leaned back in her chair, taking another bite from her burger before she sat up and hurriedly wiped her mouth, "That was quick. What do you have?" She froze before frowning, "_Who's_ there, Luna? The guy who _owns_ that box? Well, wait, this thing has shown up throughout history, how does he – oh…okay. So he isn't a shape shifter? Anything weird? Oh, from another planet, that's…erm. Luna," she leaned forward in her seat, looking particularly worried, "Luna, did you _take_ anything recently, anything at all? Did you visit the shop or – no? Wait, you'll put _who_ on? Oh, uhh, hello," Hermione scrambled to grab a pen and one of the napkins, "Uhh, so what's with your telephone box? Oh, it's a police box? Well, the things we've seen didn't describe it as such. Uhm, right, so it's a time machine? Time and relative dimension in space? Ohhhkay. Sir, can I ask what your name is? The…Doctor? Just the Doctor? Alright. My name? Oh, uhh, Hermione Granger." She blinked at Sam and Dean's curious expressions, "Why would you want an autograph? Wait, whoa, don't hang – " she sighed and lowered the phone, "Up."

"So, what was that?" Dean asked, taking his phone back and glancing at the number, frowning when he saw that it was blocked.

"I've got time and relative dimension in space, but it's disguised as a police box, his name is the Doctor, he travels around all of time and space and wants my autograph," she pursed her lips before glancing to Sam, who had shut his laptop and shook his head. "And he's an alien."

"Let's not deal with it," he decided, Dean nodding in agreement.

"Just as well – he's probably bonkers," Hermione hummed, taking another bite before wrinkling her nose and pulling out another piece of limp lettuce. "Remind me to show Castiel where to get _good_ burgers. Anyway, he said he'd love to get a before and after autograph."

"Before and after of what?" Dean asked worriedly.

"Dunno," she shrugged, "Like I said – bonkers."


	10. You Were Always Singing Along

"But Jesus was not really born in December," Castiel insisted, "We should celebrate it on the appropriate day."

"Alright, Angel Boy, think of it this way," Hermione said, her eyes trained on the rather large tree she was placing, "This is celebrating Jesus on a day that _isn't_ his birthday, and we give gifts to those who we love and care about. Plus there's snow and trees and other shiny things. It's about family and friends and being with them, and letting everyone know that we love them."

Castiel stared at the back of her head, "Do you love the Winchesters?"

"Of course – they took care of me, just like you did, and they worry about me, just like you do," Hermione smiled back, "If it was reversed, I'd do the exact same thing."

"Do you still love the Weasleys?"

"Yes, they're like family, but with that family I feel like a grandmother or a jaded aunt," she sighed, scooting a box of ornaments closer to her, "I'm always meant to fix things, I'm always meant to be this version of myself that we'd created. With the Winchesters, I can just…be myself. I don't have to pretend or act a certain way with them." Hermione blinked when her cell phone buzzed in her pocket, holding up a finger to Castiel as she fished it out. "Hullo?"

"_Hey, Sweetheart, you miss me yet?_"

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed as Castiel gave a small smile and sat on the edge of the couch, knowing that this was Dean and knowing that it would take numerous amounts of teasing and light bickering until the reason he called would come to light.

"My heart is aching without you, now what do you want?"

"_Wow, you sound eager to know that we're coming home soon,_" he teased.

"How soon?" she asked slowly, eyeing the naked Christmas tree. She'd planned to have Castiel help her with decorating it so that it would be ready by the time the boys came home.

"_Well, that's for us to know and for you to find out_," he sounded smug.

"You're a prat."

"_Stop calling me British names – we both know it doesn't sting as much if I can't understand half of them,_" he pointed out, but something else had captured her attention.

"Was that a car door?" she asked.

"_Relax, we're getting _in_ the car,_" he said before pausing, continuing slowly, "_Why are you so worried about us being home?_"

"Err – no reason," she grimaced at the Christmas tree, biting one of her nails and fidgeting, "How far away are you again?"

"_Ehh, who knows?_" If he'd been there, she would've smacked him. "_Hey, I'll call you back, Sammy needs a navigator."_

"Alright, see you," she said before wincing to the angel, "They're coming home soon."

"I assumed so," he said as he stood, "Why don't you use your magic?"

"Because I want you to decorate it too but I also want it to be decorated before the boys get here," she huffed before sighing, stooping to grab a red, plastic ornament, "I miss the glass ones. They're always so much prettier."

"Yeah, and a pain in the neck to clean up if they get dropped."

Hermione whirled around before frowning and chunking the plastic ball at Dean's head, "You prat, you lied to me!"

"Yeah, I did," he grinned back as Sam set his stuff on the dining table and moved into the living room to blink at the tree.

"Hermione, you got a tree?"

"Well," she bit her lower lip, "I wanted Castiel to decorate one and I wanted a real proper Christmas tree for once in my entire life and then I wanted to surprise you two for when you came home and I've only got one out of three so far."

"Well, we are surprised," Sam smiled as Dean grabbed the ornament from off the floor.

"I still wish to decorate it, Hermione," Castiel insisted.

"Three out of three, here's your prize," Dean grinned, holding something over her head and stooping down to peck her cheek. She blushed and swatted him away, snorting up at the little plant he held.

"That's holly, not mistletoe," she pointed out.

"Whatever," he shrugged, tossing the plant onto the coffee table, placing the small red ornament on a branch and tilting his head at it, "That seems good. I'm done." He catapulted himself onto the couch as Hermione rolled her eyes and began to place a few ornaments on the tree, Castiel and eventually Sam joining in. They put ornaments of all different shapes and sizes and colors onto the branches, Hermione grabbing some tinsel and sprinkling it here and there before offering it to Castiel, who stared at it until Sam took some and sprinkled it in her hair.

"Dean, you want to put the star on top?" Sam asked, turning to his brother, who had been watching quietly.

"Sam, in case you haven't noticed, you're a _lot_ taller than me," he pointed out.

"True, but you only put one thing on the tree," he stated.

"I'll go take it off of the tree if you keep bugging me about it."

"Come on, Dean," Hermione frowned as Sam rolled his eyes and went to take his stuff off of the dining table and put it back up in his room. She sat on the arm of the couch and pouted down at him as he looked back up at her, "Please?"

"You've got magic, you can put it up there yourself," he frowned.

She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, pulling away and giving a small smirk as he blinked back at her.

"Why'd you do that?"

"Because you're being a Grinch," the smirk got wider. "I thought maybe your heart would grow a little." She gave a very dramatic sigh and stood, "I guess not." She gave a small scream when Dean hooked a finger through a belt loop on her jeans and gave a sharp tug, sending her straight into his lap.

"Why is me putting something on the tree so important to you two?" he frowned.

"We all put something on the tree, you need to too," she continued before he could open his mouth, "And not just one ornament either. This is our first Christmas all together – contribute."

Dean gave a sigh and set her down on the cushion next to his before standing, taking the star and putting it on the top of the tree, coming back to his seat and pulling her back into his lap as she grinned. "Happy?"

She pecked his cheek again, hugging him around his neck, "Yes."

"Can we put lights on the tree?" the angel asked, peering into a box with very wide eyes, the idea of a multitude of colorful lights flashing on the tree sounding extremely wonderful to him.

"Can I use magic on that one?" Hermione asked, leaning into Dean's chest, smiling when she saw the angel's eager nod. She waved her wand and the tree lit up with color, floating orbs of light moving slightly around, casting different colors against the ornaments. Castiel blinked before reaching out a hand to touch one of the lights, furrowing his eyebrows when the light nuzzled up closer to him.

"Whoa," Sam blinked when he came down the stairs, "That's pretty cool."

Hermione bit her lip, wondering if maybe she should've used the ones in the box, before Dean pecked the side of her head, looking at the tree and smiling a little.

* * *

**btw they're not dating yet just saying chill I will tell you when they do**


	11. It Was So Easy And the Words So Sweet

"Dean. Dean. Deeeaaaan. _Dean._"

"What the hell do you want, Castiel?" he grumbled, slumping further into his pillows, not even opening his eyes to acknowledge the angel.

"Sam told me to come get you," he stated, "And then for you to wake up Hermione."

"Why?" he asked, finally opening his eyes.

Castiel frowned, "It's Christmas."

"Right, weirdo Sammy and his 'waking up at five in the morning on Christmas' tradition," Dean sighed, flinging the covers off and standing, debating about throwing on a shirt before deciding that it would look like he _wasn't_ going to be going back to bed. Castiel went downstairs while Dean moved to Hermione's room, opening the door and tilting his head at her. She was curled up with the blankets tugged up to her mouth, her hair everywhere, tucked into the side of the pillow she had her head resting on. He moved to the side of her bed, kneeling and brushing away some of her hair, "Hermione?"

"Mmyeah?" she hummed, her voice airy, eyes still shut.

"It's Christmas, Sam wants us to get up," he told her.

She uncurled and stretched, arching her back and holding her arms over her head, "Mmkay."

He watched in amusement as she tugged the blankets up over her head, crossing his arms over his chest and smiling a little. "And what do you think you're doing?"

"Sleeping," she insisted, making him sigh and rip the blankets off of her, having her hiss and curl up into a tighter ball as he slipped his arms underneath her and tugged her up. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hid her face in the crook of his jaw, her breath fanning out across his skin. "Why don't you have on a shirt?"

"Why, distracting?" he teased.

"Mm-hm," she hummed sleepily, not even tightening her grip on him as he descended the stairs.

"Come on, Sweetheart, really, wake up," he said, standing at the foot of the stairs as Sam grinned a little at them.

"_Why?_" she huffed, sounding much more awake.

"It's Christmas," Sam answered.

"Oh," she blinked, pulling away from Dean and hissing when she noticed how high up she was. "Can you put me down now? Please?"

Dean sighed and set her down on her feet, moving to the couch and flopping onto his stomach as Hermione moved past him to the armchair, squeaking when he wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her into him, flopping back onto his back as he caged her with his arms and legs, Hermione huffing but staying silent.

"Play nice – this is Castiel's first Christmas," Sam grinned at the two, "Don't ruin it for him."

Dean gave an innocent grin and tugged Hermione in closer to him, "What? Just being friendly!"

Hermione mumbled to herself, although he did hear it, what with their close proximity, "Yeah, a little _too_ friendly." She blinked when Castiel handed her a large box, wrapped in different patches of wrapping paper and held together with a multitude of tape, several bows stuck in a seemingly random order. "Oh, Castiel, thank you." She smiled up at him as Dean hissed into her ear "how are you going to open it?" She elbowed him lightly in the stomach, Sam smiling as Castiel looked positively elated.

Hermione clapped her hands over her mouth as soon as she opened up the top, eyes wide before she gave a small scream, grinning at the two boys standing in front of her as Dean gave off a smug vibe. "You – you got - ?"

A greying orange, furry head popped out of the top of the box and clumsily hopped out, purring and rubbing against Hermione's face as a smaller, whiter face sniffed and looked around at the beings taller than their human.

"We knew you missed your cats and figured we could get used to them," Sam answered as Crookshanks peered at Dean's arms with his squashed in face. The young ragdoll, named Scout, hopped out and carefully sniffed both Hermione's and Dean's arms warily before he began to purr, rubbing against their skin.

"I just – I can't believe you all," she slumped into Dean's chest with a wide smile, a few tears pooling at her eyes, "I love you three."

A lot of gifts were exchanged, and Castiel seemed to be in awe of the little ball of light that Hermione had enchanted to follow him around, acting as a sort of companion, as it had its own will, and so it was amusing watching the angel and a little speck of light playing with each other. Scout swatted at it a few times before it began to chase after the cat, having the scared little thing run and accidentally claw Dean's skin to leap into the safety of Hermione's lap.

"Hold still."

"I don't want magic used on me, Hermione, get _off._ This is uncomfortable."

"Let me heal your arm and I'll get off," she insisted, twisting to reach for the scratches, her legs tangled up with Dean's as Sam watched in amusement as the cats and Castiel tilted their heads at the spectacle. She grabbed his wrist and pulled, making him frown and allow her to see his arm, Hermione smiling a little as she placed two fingers to her lips before laying her hand over his arm, the three watching curiously as it began to heal.

"How'd you do that without your wand?" Dean asked, inspecting his skin as Hermione untangled her legs from his and attempted to move away, but his other arm wrapped around her waist and kept her still.

She sighed and rolled her eyes, "Brightest witch of my age, like I said. Wordless and wandless magic isn't a big deal for me."

"She's very powerful," Castiel spoke up, a tone of affection in his voice, as he was quite proud of his little human he was sent to watch over.

"I am not," Hermione insisted with a pout as Dean wrapped his other arm around her waist and set his chin on her shoulder.

Sam snorted and moved to pick up the wrapping paper off of the floor, grinning when Scout swatted at it a few times, "Yeah, you are."

"No, I'm not!" she exclaimed.

"Yeah, Sweetheart, you are," Dean grinned, squeezing her a little as she huffed at him.


	12. I Was a Heavy Heart to Carry

Hermione looked up as Dean, with severely mussed hair, carried her limp kitten through the doorway and shut the door behind him, frowning at her as Crookshanks gave a sort of a 'merf' sound, as if annoyed that Dean had brought the troublemaking kitten back.

"Your cat," Dean said as he held the soft little thing out to her as she placed a bookmark in her book and smiled up at him, "Tried to groom me." She gave a snort and he stopped it with a glare as she reached out and took Scout from him, running her fingers over the soft, white fur.

"He likes you," she smiled before Dean flopped onto her bed, lying on his stomach.

"Wasn't Scout a girl?"

"Oh, don't tell me you actually read my favorite book," Hermione stated, seeing his lips twitch a little, "You did?!"

"I read a lot of things – that are interesting, anyway," he told her dully before sitting up and moving on his back, facing her from the foot of the bed, knees bent to save space, "You have _no_ idea how many books I want to steal from your bookshelf."

Hermione grinned, settling Scout aside as she moved, settling into Dean's side and smiling widely, "Oh my God, you're such a bookworm."

"I am not!" he huffed, sounding rather grumpy about it.

"It's so cute, aww," Hermione continued to coo, grinning as he frowned at her.

"I kill demons, ghosts, not-really-witches, and vampires – I am not _cute_," he pouted. He felt Hermione tense and he winced, looking down at her as she pursed her lips, "It bugs you, doesn't it?"

She looked up at him and sighed, "No. Of course not. There's tons of people in the Wizarding World who kind of do that, except our ghosts are usually friendly, and we've never encountered demons."

"Then what's up?" he asked, moving onto his side to look at her as she fidgeted with a couple of buttons on his shirt.

"Do – that is…are you okay? With me?" she looked up at him as he blinked down at her.

He gave a lengthy sigh, sitting up and facing her again, "Listen, Sweetheart, you…I am more than okay with you. You're probably the only witch I'm most okay with."

She smiled and sat up as well, "Yeah?"

He gave a lopsided grin and shrugged, "Yeah." He hissed when Scout ran and tackled his arm, wrapping his arms around it and kicking it with his back legs, biting as Hermione laughed as Dean glared at the cat. "You cat, you I am not okay with!" Crookshanks slowly made his way over to the exuberant kitten, grabbing the scruff of his neck with his mouth and pried him off of Dean as he went limp. Dean watched with surprise as Crookshanks dragged the kitten to the other side of the bed, Hermione shaking quietly with suppressed laughter.

"Crookshanks likes you too," Hermione explained, laying her head on Dean's chest and grinning up at him.

"He's okay then," Dean decided, glancing at her and giving a small smile, "Seriously though, can I steal your books?"

She pursed her lips and glanced at her bookshelf, filled with as many books as she could fit in there, "One at a time. If there's a gap I may feel the need to fill it."

Dean grinned and hopped off the bed as she moved glancing over the titles before blinking when he came to one, "_Completely True_ _Biography of the Boy Who Lived_?"

Hermione snorted, back resting against the pillows, giving a small grin, "It's a gag, Ginny and I wrote it together to mess with this horrid woman who worked on the newspaper. Far too many people bought it."

"Who's it about?" Dean questioned, pulling out the book and looking at the inside front cover, blinking when the picture moved.

"Oh, Harry," she hummed, turning a page in her own book, "There were so many rumors going around about him, we decided to write them all down."

Dean gave a hum before replacing the book, tilting his head before grinning back at her, "Why do you have a book about magical tattoos?"

Hermione's eyes widened for a second before she replaced the look. "I wanted to see the difference between them and Muggle tattoos."

"Why is it dog-eared in several places?" Hermione's eyes widened again and this time she scrambled off the bed, trying to grab the book from him, but he held it higher up than where she could reach. "You've got the process, the spells – how to take care of it after you get it?" He stopped and grinned down at her as she blushed and grimaced, "You have a magical tattoo? What of? I want to see."

"No," she winced, shaking her head, "Really, I don't, I thought about it, and was actually at the tattoo parlor, but then Neville talked me out of it."

"Dammit, Neville," Dean sighed, grinning at her glare. "Well, what were you going to get a tattoo of, and where?"

She bit her lower lip, fidgeting slightly before sighing and raking a hand through her hair, "I was going to get a phoenix, on one of my shoulders. Nothing big, but…."

"So what is the difference between magical and Muggle tattoos?" he questioned, her lips twitching when he used the word.

"They'll move around, change colors, whatever you want," she shrugged, "I know a man who got a third eye that'll actually blink. It never stays solely on his forehead though, so that's extremely strange. All of a sudden, you'll be talking to him, and then his eye moves to the tip of his nose. He'll spend forever upside down, trying to get it to move back up to his forehead. It's extremely hilarious."

Dean chuckled and replaced the book, looking over her books once more before she brightened and grabbed one, handing it to him. "What's this?" he asked, blinking at the blank, leather cover.

"It's about magical creatures and their histories, legends, Muggle myths, and occasionally how to get rid of them humanely," Hermione offered with a small smile, "You can keep that one, actually."

Dean turned and gave her a grin, pecking her cheek, towing her into his side by her waist, "Thanks, Sweetheart."

"By the way, I've been meaning to ask," she turned to face him, their noses nearly touching, "Where'd the 'Sweetheart' thing come from?"

Dean grinned and wrapped his other arm around her, towing her into his chest, forcing her to look up at him to see, "Well, you're sweet, and you've got a heart, don't you?"

She blinked dully back up at him, "Dean."

He sighed and rolled his eyes, "I don't know, okay? One day the name just popped into my head in association with you, okay? That good enough of an answer?"

She grinned and stretched to kiss the tip of his nose, "Sure thing, Love." She blinked when there was a low rumbling sound, the two blinking over at Crookshanks, who was pinning the younger cat and watching them, growling just a little. Hermione blushed a little before Dean's arms were gone, and he'd taken a step back, but was grinning and snorting at the cat anyway.

"I think I'll check this out," Dean stated, glancing at Crookshanks, "Before your cat changes his mind about me." He tugged on a curl before heading out of her room, "Thanks, Sweetheart!"

"Uh-huh!" she called back before sighing and flopping back on her bed, blushing brilliantly. Scout – having been released from Crookshanks – made his way over to her, sniffing cautiously, unsure of what to do, but Crookshanks made his way over to her and plopped himself down on her stomach. "This is bad, isn't it?" she questioned the orange cat. "I mean, he couldn't possibly, right? Of course not. No, I should just get over this, shouldn't I? Ow!" She frowned when Crookshanks lightly bit her hand, grumbling a little, "I shouldn't get over it?" Crookshanks gave a meow to confirm as Scout watched the exchange. "Oh what do you know? You're a cat. Ow!" She frowned when he lightly bit her again. "Alright, you're a Kneazle-cat! Merlin, we need to figure out a new way for you to disagree with me."

Crookshanks hopped off of her stomach rather smugly, nudging her book back over to her with his nose, settling in to her side as Scout curled up as well. In his own, personal, cat-like opinion, he thought that perhaps his human read just a little too much, and the deep-voiced hunter could probably distract her far more than those abusive men had, and in far better ways. As his human read, absentmindedly stroking his fur, he began to plot.


	13. My Beloved Was Weighed Down

Hermione gave a muffled groan, knowing that somewhere on her bed, someone had just texted her at an ungodly hour of the night. Sam had gotten her the phone a month ago, for Christmas, and so far she had his, Dean's, Castiel's, Luna's and Harry's numbers, which were just about all she needed, in her opinion. She felt around, murmuring an apology to Crookshanks when she disturbed him, before she found the little device, shutting her eyes before she flicked it on, blinking cautiously to look at the text message.

_Do you want me to stop?_

Hermione huffed, getting out of bed to shuffle down the hall and into Dean's room, glaring at him as he blinked at her hair, "We live in the same bloody house. What do I want you to stop doing? Texting me at – " she glanced at the phone still in her hand " – one forty-eight in the morning? Yes, that's something I want you to stop doing."

"No, I meant what we talked about last night," Dean said.

Hermione sighed and moved to sit on his bed, flopping on her back and rubbing her eyes, "I just woke up, Winchester. What did we talk about last night?"

"How I call you Sweetheart," he frowned, "Do you want me to stop?"

"Why the hell did you suddenly think of this question?" she asked, sitting up and looking at him incredulously, "Why the hell are you even _awake?_" She scoffed, stood, and shook her head before walking back to her room. Dean sighed and settled back down, putting the book she'd gave him on his nightstand, turning off the lamp before his phone buzzed.

_No, I don't want you to stop calling me Sweetheart. Now go the hell to sleep._

Dean grinned, waiting a minute or two until he texted back, _Yes ma'am._

"Dean!" she warned from down the hall, making him chuckle and set his phone down on his book, shutting his eyes with a smile.


	14. My Arms Around His Neck

"Do you love her?"

"What?" Dean asked, looking up from the book, Sam watching him with a careful look in his eye, head propped up on his fist from the armchair.

"Do you love Hermione?" Sam restated, watching as Dean set the book down and frowned at him.

"What kind of question is that?"

"One where I know the answer to, but I don't know if you know it," Sam hummed, squinting at him before turning back to the television, "Never mind then."

"No, Sammy, that's not a question you can 'never mind,'" Dean pointed out, "What the hell?"

Sam shrugged, still focusing on the screen, "You act like you love her. And not like – 'oh, yeah, I care, but I don't see anything romantic happening' – you act like you've been dating. Wait –" he turned to frown at his brother, "_Have _you been dating?"

"No!" Dean yelped, blinking when Sam muttered out a 'damn.' "What's making you say this, anyway?"

"Just what I've been noticing since she got sick," Sam answered, "I mean, I don't know how you or Hermione work, but calling her 'Sweetheart' and kissing each other anywhere except the mouth isn't some platonic thing out here in the audience." He looked over when Dean was silent, staring very hard at the coffee table. "Look, Man, forget I said anything."

"I…" Dean finally spoke, "Maybe? Hell if I know."

Sam gave a slight grin, knowing that this was as far as Dean would come to admitting it, and nodded, turning back to the screen and leaving Dean to think.

* * *

**What? Pfft, no, I haven't taken forever to update! You just need to pay more attention! *shifty eyes***

**Good news is that I've written ahead by quite a few chapters. Bad news is I don't know how to continue from then. Good news is that I'm going to start a fanfic journal at school. Bad news is I don't get a lot of free time at school.**

**I'll update again in a sec, don't go away!**


	15. My Fingers Laced a Crown

"You're mad, aren't you?"

She pursed her lips and continued to clean the wound, trying to be gentle because it looked like it hurt enough without her touching it, but also trying to inflict enough pressure into it because she _was_ mad.

"You're not saying anything. On a scale from mad to pissed, how angry are you?"

"_Livid_," she growled, and Dean sighed as Sam shook his head at his brother and the witch. "How fucking stupid are you to go and get bitten by a bloody lion-snake-goat-thing that doesn't even have arms!"

"You're really mad when you don't know the specific scientific or Latin term for something," Dean decided before hissing as she took another swipe at the wound covering his side from hip to ribcage with the bloodied rag. "Can't you use magic?"

"No, because the venom from the bite would react badly to my magic," she clipped, tossing the rag onto the coffee table, taking another rag to peer further into the wound.

"He's going to be alright, right?" Sam worried.

Hermione snorted, "I was a Healer at St. Mungo's, I saw this and ten times worse before I quit and went to college. He'll be fine, Sam. Well, from the bite. I can't guarantee if he'll be alright after I'm done with him." She lightly moved her hands over the skin around his wound, humming as he hissed again, gripping the cushions of the couch. "I need needle and thread."

"Whoa, whoa, _what?_" Dean exclaimed, making her sigh and roll her eyes.

"I said I _need_ needle and thread, but that doesn't mean I'm going to stitch it," she frowned, "It probably wouldn't be sterilized and it would cause an infection. Your luck you'd probably get gangrene or something. Alright, uhm…Sam, go up into my room, grab a beaded bag from my dresser, and bring it back to me. Then go into the kitchen and get me a huge roll of gauze." Sam nodded and headed up the stairs to do as he was asked as Hermione hummed and brought the rag back to his side, as it'd begun to lightly bleed again.

"I'm not stupid."

"Well, you're not smart enough to know how to _not_ get bitten by a creature with no arms," she replied. "Forgive me, but it was the only word I could find to describe such a rate of intelligence. If you think of another, please let me know."

"It was kind of coming at me, and I killed it, didn't I?"

"Well if you could've done it without winding up bleeding on the couch, I wouldn't be yelling at you!" she huffed, glaring at him, "Look, I've had far too many people I care about end up bleeding out on a couch, and I thought this wouldn't happen with you and Sam."

"You thought we wouldn't get hurt? We're hunters, what were you expecting?" he blinked.

"I didn't say that – I just…" she sighed, and seemed to deflate, "I thought you two knew how to prevent this from happening. I can't go around fixing everything, Dean."

"I know, Sweetheart," he said.

"I tried before, it doesn't work," she insisted.

"I know, Hermione," he repeated.

She was silent for a few moments, pressing the rag into his side, watching as the red overtook the white. "It was a Chimaera. I can't think when I'm worried like this."

Dean chuckled before hissing at his side.


	16. My Feet Dragged Across the Ground

Dean glared at her as she smirked and pulled on a jacket, tugging on the laces of her boots as Sam came in from the kitchen, pausing for a moment to think if she wanted a gun, before deciding against it.

"I can come too, I'm not some invalid," Dean insisted once again.

"Look who's using big words," Sam grinned, "But if you pull your side open again, Hermione may just let you bleed out rather than fix you. Besides, we need bonding time."

"Yeah," Hermione smiled and leaned into Sam's side, and it made Dean purse his lips a little, "You can't hog me all the time, Winchester. Learn to share."

Dean ignored pointing out the fact that he wasn't too good at sharing when he was growing up and wasn't about to start now, especially not when it came to her. "What're you going after, anyway?"

"Just checking out some locals on a town in Mississippi, there's something going on there but we don't know what yet," Sam stated, "We won't take it on without knowing what it is."

"We'll probably go back out once we have a better idea of it," Hermione shrugged before leaning over the back of the couch and pecking his cheek, "Stay stationary, don't kill my cats, we'll check in on you later." She and Sam headed out the door, leaving Dean to pout at the front door before he sighed and turned to Crookshanks, who was settled on the back of the armchair and watching him with his squished in face.

"This blows," he decided before carefully standing and grabbing his book from his room, heading back down to the living room to read until they came back. They called somewhere around three, saying that they figured out what the creature was and would be able to take it out then and there rather than wait. At five, the front door slammed open and Hermione quietly walked through, Sam grimacing and following as Dean looked on curiously.

"Where's the bleach?" she asked after a moment as Dean blinked while Sam frowned.

"You're not rinsing your mouth out with bleach!" he argued.

"It's either that or I set myself on fire, your choice!" Hermione stated before Sam glared at her.

"Go get some mouthwash or something, but you're _not_ using bleach," he insisted. She glared before heading up the stairs two at a time, Sam sighing as he turned to Dean. "Some creep grabbed her and kissed her."

"_What?_" Dean was standing, ignoring the pain his side gave in protest, but Sam was already shaking his head.

"No, it's fine, he's probably got a concussion right now, but she hasn't talked until just then," Sam explained before chuckling, "She roundhouse kicked him. I didn't know she knew how to do that."

Dean quirked a grin as he sat back down, "Really?"

"Yeah, he was bleeding and everything. I am _so_ glad I didn't give her a gun," Sam sighed as Hermione came down the stairs, sitting down next to Dean and huffing.

"Slimy pathetic creep," she grumbled before arching an eyebrow at Dean's grin. "What?"

"You smell like peppermint," he shrugged, "Your gums bleed?"

"I'd get my tongue to bleed if I could – ugh, I don't want to talk about it, I still feel gross," she whimpered and curled up into his unharmed side, "I'm never going hunting again!"

"Oh, did you kill it?" Dean asked.

"Yeah – it was some ghoul, nothing big," Sam shrugged, plopping down in the armchair, reaching a hand up behind his head to pet Crookshanks. "Hermione did most of the work."

"Nothing new there," Dean chuckled, tugging on a curl before he went to rubbing her back. "You alright there, Sweetheart?"

"Can I cut out my tongue? I mean, nobody really listens to me anyway, I don't know why I can't," she hummed as Sam glared lengthily at her, making Dean laugh.


	17. He Took Me to the River

"Where are you going looking all dressed up?" Sam asked from the dining table, Dean looking up from his plate as Hermione frowned and examined her appearance in a small mirror hanging on the side of the staircase, dressed in a dark blue dress and heels with her hair tied up, putting in a dangling earring as she pursed her lips.

"Bloody Ginny and her ruddy 'blind date' and her stupid 'I just want you to be happy, give me that much, we barely see you now, please, Hermione, for me' and her stupid husband and his stupid puppy eyes – green eyes! Bloody green eyes always get to me!"

"Noted," Dean mumbled, making Sam shoot him a grin before they turned back to Hermione as she huffed and made her way to them before arching an eyebrow and pointing at her dress.

"Yes or no?"

"Well it depends on the question," Sam decided as Dean took the opportunity to glance her over.

"Is this dark enough so that I can slip away in the shadows?" she questioned, "She's got me set up with some bloke from the Auror department and I've got a feeling I'm going to need the cover of darkness."

"Yes," Dean and Sam agreed as she sighed and sat down in her chair, pouting a little before Dean scooted his plate over to her.

She looked back at him as Sam blinked at his older brother – sharing food was not something Dean did lightly. "What?" she asked.

"Eat," he said, standing up to grab another fork.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Have you never seen an apple pie?" he snorted, offering the fork to her as Sam watched in amusement.

"My mum never made apple – said she hated it. They were dentists anyway, didn't want me having much sugar, so I got a cake on my birthday instead," she shrugged.

"Then this is a momentous occasion," Sam decided with a grin, Dean grinning and nodding as well.

Hermione examined the pie skeptically, "I'm going to go eat in a few minutes."

"Come on – one bite of pie," Dean urged, waving the fork around, "We won't let you go until you eat it."

"I don't want to go anyway," she grumbled as she took the fork from him, sighed, and took a bite of the pie, chewing before she sighed and swallowed. "Dammit."

"What?" Sam asked.

"Now I just want to eat this," she pouted as she glanced at her watch and groaned, standing and tossing her fork in the sink, "Bloody brilliant. Well, wish me luck on my shadow-blending adventure!"

"Good luck!" they chorused, Dean scooting his pie back over to him to eat as Sam looked between the two, shook his head, and grinned.

"Man, you need to make a move," Sam decided, sighing and looking over at his brother sadly.

"What?" Dean muttered through his mouthful of pie.

"What if she actually ends up liking this guy? What if this date turns into another and another and so on and so forth until a wedding date? Are you just going to sit by and let that happen?"

"Dude, I don't know what you're talking about," he said after a moment of silence, during which he'd swallowed.

"Just – don't expect it to stay like this forever," Sam gestured to the house, giving a rather sad smile, "Things are going to change." And with that, he stood and walked up to his room, leaving Dean to blink around.

This was the only place that had ever really felt like home since their mom had died. He could tell you where anything was, he could tell you what belonged to who, or who had given it to them. It was warm and safe and everything seemed to work just fine. It had his brother in the room next door and an interesting witch just down the hall. They'd had a Christmas tree with ornaments and weird floating lights and he'd put the star on top.

The witch was smart, and sarcastic, and knew how to put up a hell of a fight when she wanted to. She was also warm, and smelled like a not unpleasant mixture of cinnamon and peppermint, and was pretty cute, especially with that accent. She'd gotten out of a string of abusive boyfriends and had been some weird magical doctor before going to college. He liked how she laughed and how she fit in to his side, and even how she worried about him. He'd shared his _pie_ with her for God's sake!

He'd cleaned up his plate and sat on the couch until eight, three hours after she left, and she sighed and sat down next to him, leaning into his side.

"How'd it go?" he asked.

"Oh, terrible," she snorted with a grin, taking off her heels and curling her legs up on the cushion next to her, making him smile as he began to play with her hair. "He spilled cold water on me, and attempted to literally talk me out of my dress. I left promptly after that, chewed Ginny out about it and told her to butt out of my romantic life, and then we talked for about two hours about anything we could think of. It was nice."

"So was it a total bust or not?" he asked.

"Meh, it was alright," she shrugged, sighing as she placed her head over his heart, smiling when she heard it beat. "I'm just glad I'm home."

Dean grinned too, kissing the top of her head, "Same here, Sweetheart." He released a sigh of relief, glad that she wasn't gone all night and what that could've possibly meant, "Same here."

She hummed, debating on falling asleep on him, before she thought better of it and lifted her head to look up at him, "So, what'd you do?"

"Waited for you to come home," he shrugged, answering truthfully.

"That's sweet of you, but you didn't have to," she smiled, tossing an arm over his stomach, "I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself."

"I know you can, but that doesn't mean I'll worry less, _especially_ when you go out on a date with a guy that isn't me."

She frowned and squinted up at him, "I can't tell if you're being egotistical or flirty."

"Ehh, kind of both," he hummed, "Mostly going for the second one though. Is it working?"

She snorted, settling back into him and shutting her eyes this time, "Shhh. You're going to ruin the moment."

"Can I make it better?" he asked with a grin.

"Maybe later," she yawned, smiling when his fingers lightly brushed over the skin of her back, where the dress showed. "You're warm, you know?"

"So are you," he murmured.

She hummed, "I'm staying here, aren't I?"

"Yeah – you're also probably going to fall asleep here too," he grinned.

"You're incorrigible," she sighed, lifting her head up to him once more.

"Good or bad?" he questioned.

She raised up just enough to peck him on the lips, giving a soft smile, "Good." She settled back down with the smile still on her face. "Night, Dean."

He grinned brightly and pecked the top of her head, "Night, Sweetheart. See you in the morning."

She sighed, halfway asleep, and mumbled out an "okay." Once she was out, Dean grabbed the blanket thrown over the back of the couch, angled just enough so that he wouldn't disturb her, threw the blanket over the both of them and went to sleep with her.

* * *

_**Now**_** they're dating.**


	18. Where He Slowly Let Me Drown

"No, no, no," Hermione grimaced as Dean laughed and wrapped his arms around her waist, dragging her into him, using his leg to trap hers and keep her from wiggling away.

"Come on, Hermione, let me see."

"_No_," she insisted with a pout. It was about a month into their relationship, and Sam had exclaimed "final-freaking-ly!" when they had told him, and Castiel had seemed particularly ecstatic about it, although they couldn't get him to say why. Dean often made visits into her room at night, and they would stay up well into the night talking, although Dean would sometimes distract them both. Scout still liked attacking Dean's limbs, but he would just sigh and pluck the thing off and frown at him as he tried to look especially cute and innocent.

"You're such a liar – is it even on your back?" he asked, settling his chin on her shoulder as she sighed.

"Yeah, it's on my back," she frowned. Apparently Dean had seen a flash of red and gold and immediately came to the decision that she'd lied all those months ago, and was now attempting to convince her to let him see her magical tattoo.

"Please let me see," he tried again, kissing her shoulder.

Hermione sighed and pushed away from him, making him think that he'd tried too hard, when she pulled off her sweater, revealing the tank top with a phoenix flitting about around her shoulders, resting her chin on her fist as Dean blinked and watched it for a moment. He traced the lines of the phoenix, who seemed to like the attention, before he noticed something, making Hermione hiss and tense up.

"Where did you get all of these?" he asked, moving his fingers across the lines.

"War, mostly, although this one – " she reached an arm back to touch one at the back of her neck, moving her hair back for him to see, " – I got falling off my bike when I was seven."

"How did you fall off your bike?" he asked.

"Fell off, got pushed off, same difference," she shrugged, "Hurt either way." She snorted and turned to grin at him, "There was so much blood, the other kids thought I'd died. They went running to their mothers crying and telling on themselves. One of their older brothers was a EMT and got an ambulance pretty quickly, and when I woke up my parents were saying that I'd been out for a whole week. I didn't believe them until I went to school and the teacher handed me a week's worth of homework."

"They _still_ gave you homework?" he blinked.

"Oh, I asked for it," she shrugged, leaning into his chest and smiling when he wrapped his arms around her, "I was a weird child who enjoyed doing homework."

"We really should've been friends when we were younger," Dean hummed, running his fingers through her hair as she snorted. "No, really – I'd keep the bullies off of you and you could've helped me with my homework."

"Oh please," she grinned, "Regardless of the fact that we went to two different schools in two different countries on two different continents, I highly doubt we would've liked each other when we were younger."

"Ehh, probably," he shrugged as she wrapped her arms around his neck and settled her chin on his chest, "You were probably way smarter than me and wouldn't have liked me."

"Or you wouldn't have liked me, either or," she muttered.

"I probably would've liked you ten times less when I found out you were a witch," he smiled, grinning when she shot a glare up at him, "What? I was kind of prejudiced when I was younger."

"When you were younger?" she repeated, grinning when he frowned before he curled her up tighter into him, growling and tickling her as she laughed and tried to escape.

Crookshanks opened up an eye from the armchair by her bookshelf before he gave a twitch of his whiskers and went back to sleep.


	19. When You're Lost and Alone

"So he's a what again?"

"Kneazle-cat hybrid – they're very smart," Hermione answered as Crookshanks looked up from the armchair, stretching and yawning before staring back at the two humans. Hermione was pushed up against her pillows, Dean's head lying on her stomach as her hands played with his hair. Crookshanks glanced over at their appearances, as apparently they had both changed into pajamas and Dean had come back. Her clock read that it was midnight, and Dean looked as if he wasn't leaving again, as he seemed very comfortable.

"Is that why his face is squished in? He's a weird mix of two things?" he asked and Crookshanks narrowed his eyes.

"No – that's just his face," Hermione frowned, "There's several breeds of cat whose faces are like that."

"And you picked that one?" Dean looked up at her incredulously.

Hermione shot him a glare and he grinned before leaning up to kiss her cheek, "You're not getting out of it. I like Crookshanks, he's far more loyal than anyone else in my life."

"Well yeah, but you met him before me," Dean grinned as she rolled her eyes.

"Dean, you seem prone to forgetting that the first time we met, you kicked me in the head and locked me up in the basement and were very keen to killing me," she pointed out, blinking when Crookshanks began to growl and puff up. "Oh, lie back down, Crookshanks, we've fixed it, go back to sleep."

"Relax, cat, I'm not hurting her and I won't let anything hurt her," Dean rolled his eyes, wrapping his arms around Hermione and towing her into his chest. He snorted when Crookshanks's fur deflated and he lay back down, glaring at him before he finally shut his eyes. "See? He hates me now."

"Well can you blame him?" she grinned, reaching up to peck his cheek, "Are you staying the night?"

"You aren't seriously thinking I'm going to get up out of one bed to get into another, right?" he blinked, "Especially when the second one doesn't have a hot British chick in it?" He laughed when Hermione's face flushed and she punched his chest.

When the humans fell asleep, Crookshanks opened his eyes to find that Scout was inching his way over to Dean's arm, rear wiggling as he got ready to pounce before he heard Crookshanks warning growl. He flattened his ears and shrunk back, being rather afraid of the larger cat, and jumped off of the bed before climbing his way into the armchair with Crookshanks, who sighed and allowed the kitten to wiggle up next to him and fall asleep.


	20. And You're Sinking Like a Stone

"Let me go, you son of a bitch!"

Sam winced and groaned, looking down as his head pounded, surprised to see that he was suspended several feet over black nothingness as Hermione kicked and squirmed, her arms tied above her head in the same way that his and Dean's were, and Dean was fighting to raise his head up and keep his eyes open.

"Huh-uh, Darling, I need you nice and restrained," a voice called, not too far away, practically purring, "I've seen what you can do."

"You fucking touch her and I swear to God – " Dean groggily began before he was cut off.

"Ahh, speaking of the big man upstairs – we have some negotiation to do," the voice decided.

"What do you want?" Sam called, his voice echoing. Where were they? In a cave? There wasn't really much to see. It smelled moldy though, damp, like there was moss somewhere.

"Where is Castiel?" Hermione asked, still kicking, growling furiously.

"Ahh, who cares? Now, down to business – see, there's gonna be something big coming up soon, able to take out practically the entire human race – including you and your little kin, Miss Granger – and I can stop it."

"Then why don't you?" Dean called.

"See, here's the thing – I don't like you two together. Gets on my nerves, all of this love and happiness – blegh. I can help stop it if you two break up."

The three processed this and glanced between each other before laughing, hanging their heads and shaking with mirth.

"A-are you bloody serious?" Hermione chuckled, "That's ridiculous!"

"So you'll stop this oncoming war if Hermione and I break up? Why?" Dean asked in amusement.

"Oh, not just break up," the voice stated wickedly, "Forget the other even exists. Forget everything that happened – all three of you."

Now the laughter was gone. Their faces went pale. Their muscles tensed.

"See, you three together, it causes a lot of bad news for me later on – can't tell you what, or who I am, but it's not good," the voice sounded like it was pouting before it perked right back up. "However, if we remove the pretty little girl here…." Hermione was moved away from the Winchesters, facing them now with wide eyes while Dean started to squirm again.

"Listen here, fucktwad! If you think you can force me to forget my girlfriend, you've got another thing coming!"

"Ahh, but you know her pattern, right? Bad, abusive boyfriends? I can make you turn into her biggest fear. I can _do_ that. Not right off the bat, of course, it'll start off slow. You'll apologize. Say you didn't mean it. Then you'll be standing over her pale, fragile body, saying '_oh God, what have I done?_'"

"Then why do that?" Hermione croaked, "Why make us forget each other, why not do that right away? You get rid of us."

"Right, right, I thought of it at first, but Blonde Boy Wonder over there needs to be in the right state of mind for the big showdown, and that can't happen if he's cradling his girlfriend's lifeless body in horror at what he's done." The voice sounded cheerful, and Sam didn't like it one bit.

"What showdown, what oncoming war, what are you talking about?" Sam questioned.

The voice sounded like it was smirking, "You've got until tomorrow night to decide. Sweet dreams – they might be your last."

The ropes were cut, and all three of them went falling into the darkness, sitting up with jolts in their living room, where nobody remembered having fallen asleep.

"That – that – he can't do that, he can't do any of this, it doesn't give him the right," Hermione said as she paced, shaking and wringing her hands together, Dean grabbing her arm and towing her into his lap, trying to calm her down.

"He can't do this, we'll get Castiel to help, nobody's going to die and nobody's going to forget anyone," Sam decided before he saw the two glance at each other, Dean rubbing Hermione's back as she curled into him, doubtful glances at one another. "Oh come on, you don't want Hermione to _die_ do you?"

"No," Dean said slowly, shutting his eyes and hitting his head against the back of the couch as Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face there. "We're going to forget each other."

* * *

"So this is it?"

"Yeah," Dean said hoarsely, his hand out, fingers spread; her smaller hand placed against his as she watched their hands, lying on their sides, facing each other. Sam had adamantly argued with the two, but they argued back, saying that they couldn't let anyone get hurt just because they wanted to stay together, and that Dean wouldn't hurt Hermione, that he didn't _want _to hurt Hermione. Seeing as they were hurting themselves and would forget it later, it seemed like an alright idea, but Sam still wasn't happy with it. Hermione was a constant fissure in his life as well, managing to make Dean grin or relax when he couldn't, and being nice and interesting enough for him to get along with. She was his friend, and not being able to see her or even remember her would hurt too.

"I don't like this," she murmured, shutting her eyes and frowning a little when Dean kissed her forehead.

"There's not much we can do, Sweetheart," he sighed, running his fingers through her hair.

She buried her face in his chest, "Doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Yeah, I don't either," he agreed.


	21. Carry On

Hermione sighed and stretched, murmuring and sighing, her hand falling and blinking when there was no warm body or dip in the mattress. She blinked again when she wondered why she would even think of that being there when she woke up. She sat up and looked around. Her room looked…different. Like she hadn't been in it in ages. She looked around with a frown, rubbing the back of her neck, feeling as if she was forgetting something. With a shrug, she flung the blankets off and padded into the kitchen to feed Crookshanks and Scout. With a start, she realized that her calendar was out of date, by at least a year.

Wondering what could've happened, she thought back and gripped the counter, staring at the calendar while she flipped through. What had happened? Where did Christmas go? Why did she think of a real pine tree, even when she'd never had one, and red plastic ornaments and holly disguising as mistletoe? Why did she think of apple pie when she'd never had one, cinnamon and warmth on her tongue? Why did she think of a strange tattoo, fuzzy from memory, on some stranger's chest?

She plucked the calendar from the fridge and promptly dropped it into the rubbish bin. Whatever had happened, it was probably best not to know.

* * *

"Dean! Dean! Man, c'mon, wake _up_, we've got a vampire nest just in the next state over!"

Dean groaned and hugged his pillow, trying to remember the face he'd seen in his dream. It was a girl's face, and it was pretty, he remembered that much, but all he had was that she had curly brown hair. With a sigh, he kicked off the scratchy motel sheets – which bugged him more than they usually did – and sat up, stretching out his arms and frowning a little when he pictured dragging some smaller, feminine body onto his lap. Maybe he just needed to get laid. For some reason, that brought a sneer to his face. What the hell? He shook his head and stood, blinking when a book sat on the nightstand.

"Hey Sam?" he called, as Sam was in the bathroom.

"Yeah?" he called back, his mouth full of toothpaste.

"You leave this book on the nightstand?" he questioned.

"I thought you did!" he said.

"Huh. We must've gotten _really_ drunk last night," Dean blinked, shrugging and grabbing the book, ready to throw it in the trash when something made him stop and settle it in his bag. It was weird, all of this, like he'd been out of sync with hopping around and sleeping in motel rooms and trying to get laid with random girls he'd never see again.

Whatever was going on, he _really_ hoped it wouldn't try to kill him.


	22. Back to the Street Where We Began

"There's bruising, here and here, marking that he was strangled to death," she stood taller, tapping her knuckle to her chin, eyes flashing as the wind blew her hair.

"With one hand?" the wide-eyed petite woman questioned, making her snort and wave derisively over her shoulder.

"Of course not, this man is quite large, if there is a hand large enough to wrap around his throat, it'd be easier to find," she shook her head, brown curls flying, "No, it looks like it was done with a belt, but we'll have to wait for the coroner. And see the bruising on his chest, too? Someone sat on him. That, plus the belt, he was easier to knock unconscious, and easier to finish off." Hermione paused and shook her head, standing straighter, trying to ignore the feeling of someone wrapping palms around her throat, a constriction in her chest. She cleared her throat and took several deep breaths, eyes flicking across the scene.

She'd started helping the law enforcement about four months ago, giving a good idea on a criminal's mind. It was a tentative job, something to keep her mind off of all of the confusing matters at hand, patches in her own memory that she was scared to delve into. Her eyes flicked to the edge of the yellow tape, further taking in the scene, blinking when two men marched their way over to her.

She turned to Stacy, a little trainee – who was eager to learn anything from a strong, confident woman, and finding the teacher she wanted in Hermione – and told her to go and chat with one of the officers guarding the scene, watching her bounce away as the two men got closer and closer.

One was tall, broad shouldered, with long dark hair, dressed in a navy blue suit, the other shorter than his companion, with cropped blonde hair and a seemingly permanent cocky smirk.

Hermione settled her hands on her hips and arched an eyebrow up at the two, "Can I help you two?" As a 'rookie' and a female with the force, she always had to fight for basic rights, to be treated equally and fairly and not have her opinions shoved aside on cases. This was her attitude just over the course of a few months, bad tempered and annoyed at human interaction.

"We're investigating Mr. Deadbody here for another string of crimes," the tallest announced.

"And who are you?" she asked.

"FBI, I'm Agent Taylor, this is Agent Gibson," he continued as the other man looked curiously at her.

She crossed her arms over her chest, arching the eyebrow higher at Agent Gibson, "Is there something wrong, Agent Gibson?"

"Oh, no, miss," he responded, and she internally cringed at the word, reminding her of her school days and being talked down to by even her peers. "You just…look familiar."

The eyebrow came down and she studied him further. Now that he mentioned it…. No, this was not what they were supposed to be doing, not reminiscing about dreams, but finding the killer.

"So what seems to be the case?" Agent Taylor asked.

She shrugged, "Someone sat on him and strangled him with something, I'll bet a belt, and he died. Body dump. Hadn't been dead long when someone found him." She pursed her lips and flicked between the two as they shared a glance. "Why have the FBI been called in?"

"Some strange circumstances concerning his death."

"What sort of strange circumstances?" she questioned.

"Look, Honey, just go back to – uhh – whatever it is you do, and let us do our job?" Agent Gibson asked.

Hermione's polite demeanor snapped and Agent Taylor took several steps away from the two, watching with wide eyes. "Look here, _Honey_, this is _my_ job, this is what I do – I get a feel for the criminal, I get inside their heads, I give the police an idea on what to look for and oftentimes point out exactly who did it, and right now you are interfering with _my_ work. I've gotten enough chauvinistic bullshit from the men around here – I'm not about to let some so-called FBI agents give me the same shit. And don't give me that look – Gibson, Taylor? Guitar brands, far too coincidental, you must have a strong appreciation for music, or certain bands that use those guitars. So what are you _really_ doing here, before you contaminate the scene, and get little Ricky in trouble for letting you two inside in the first place?"

The two men shared wide-eyed glances before "Gibson" sighed and lowered his voice, "Look, this isn't some normal…well, this isn't normal period. None of this. Can't you play along just until this thing is captured?"

Thing. He'd said thing. He hadn't said person, he said thing.

Hermione turned her head back to the body. Bruises on the chest, around the neck, looking as if he was strangled, it was a large male, perhaps it was something that could fly, drop the carcasses when they were done. Dammit, if she only had a certain book – it was missing, she didn't remember losing it anywhere. In any case, she couldn't think of anything off the top of her head that was even remotely close to being down here.

She looked back at the two men. She bit her lower lip before sighing and leaning forward, "It seems to be an ancient civilization's creature, from what I remember, I'll need to check the library further, but I'll send the police to any other possible suspects."

The two men brightened and she felt the edges of her lips tugging upward before she shook her head and moved back to further assess the body with a newfound interest.

* * *

She was small. Petite, with long curly brown hair, easier to grip than shorter hair, tangling around fingers, becoming her own death sentence. Since he'd ripped the two apart, he'd been following, watching closely. To anyone who didn't know her history, she would make for an easy target. Follow her down and alley, reach out to grab her, the second she saw an arm it would be gripped and used to tug over, the shoulder popping out of place as the body sailed through the air in surprise from the small woman's agility. No, he certainly knew her. He knew everything about her, knew that she'd be close to the Winchester, knew that she wouldn't be helping the correct side in the upcoming battle.

If the hunter didn't remember her, he wouldn't miss her. Wouldn't even care that she'd be trapped in a dark, deserted house, just outside of town, where her screams wouldn't be heard. The witch's blood was so very tempting, humming in her veins, singing with her power, it was so hard to just sit at the table outside of a coffee shop and watch her walk home, to her two cats, to the sketchy lock on her door, to the defensive shields she had around her apartment that would be enough to keep out a burglar or a regular killer, but never him.

A smile stretched across his face, and to anyone else it looked like he was daydreaming. The hunter had no idea what he'd taken from him. And he planned to keep it that way.


	23. Feelin' As Good As Lovers Can, You Know

**I wrote this at about midnight and so had to edit it because wow I'm illiterate when I'm tired.**

* * *

"It doesn't have a name, but I expected that much," she said in a quiet rush, flitting about her office, showing the two pictures as they slumped in their seats with dozing interest, as it was one in the morning, and they'd been roused from their motel beds. "It latches on to humans, somewhat like mental disorders, but these are just feeding off of our life forces, leaving bruises because that's where they invisibly settle, coiled around the neck and on the chest. When they're done feeding, they squeeze to pry themselves off the chest, and then go on to the next victim."

"So, wait, it's moved on already?" Sam questioned, looking hopelessly up at the tiny British woman as Dean groaned and rubbed at his face.

"Ahh, I wasn't done," she smiled prettily, her brown eyes lighting up, "It hangs around the last victim and finds a stranger who feels the most remorse for it. This could take ages, so that's why it feeds so much. Don't feel sorry for this guy, alright? I've told a few people the same, such as the new ones, but I've also sent the police looking for an angry cousin who I believe is a drug dealer, if a little bit of cocaine on his business card is anything to go on."

"How do you know the guy taking a dirt nap wasn't into drugs?" Dean questioned.

"It shows up on the body, all of your scars and injuries, what medications you've taken, what you've been through, all of it. Well, any that left any physical marks – that can be shown in an autopsy," she sighed, running a hand through her hair, thinking of the lines and marks and the horrid word etched into her skin all over her body. "We're like parchment, a blank canvas, and we add on as we grow older, such as tattoos or freckles or – "

"Scars?"

The word died on her tongue and she turned to look at him, slumped in her consulting seat, looking up at her with bright green eyes, despite how tired they were, his mouth quirked a little. "Your clothes move, Doll. So how did you get them? High school get too hard?"

She pursed her lips and frowned at him, "For one thing, that's very rude to demean things like that, those are very serious. For another, no. My past is my own, however, and I hope to keep it that way. I'm here to help you and get justice for Mark Collins, there is no personal gain for me here, I don't owe you anything."

Sam cleared his throat after a few moments of silence, "So how do we find it and get rid of it?"

"I'm working on finding it myself, I'll let you get rid of it, you may want to start searching for it yourself," she said.

"That's it?" Dean asked incredulously. "That's what you called us down here at one in the morning for?"

"Hey, don't blame me, blame that one," she waved her hand to Sam, who slunk lower in his seat and twirled his thumbs as Dean glared at him. "I was all for going to bed, didn't even think you would answer your e-mail at one in the morning and would check it later on, but _nooo_ you were awake!"

"Dude!" Dean yelled, "What the hell were you doing awake at one in the morning?"

"It's addictive!" Sam hissed, "You don't know how you end up there, but suddenly, you're reblogging pictures of a cat in a sweater! And apparently you've been doing that for three hours!"

"Oh my God, I _know_!" Hermione exclaimed, making Dean blink over at her, "I try to write, and then I look up, I've been blogging for seven hours, and still have my toothbrush in my mouth!"

"You fucking weirdos," Dean sighed, reclining further in the chair and shutting his eyes.

* * *

He frowned as he peered into the window. The three were laughing over something, curling in on their stomachs, eyes shut tight, trying to breathe, Hermione clutching the desk for support. They looked happy. This was not supposed to happen, they were not supposed to find her, and they were not supposed to be getting along. He had to move fast, before he got attached to her again and anything resurfaced.

Soon, he thought with a smirk, fading into vapor, unseen in the darkness. Very soon….


	24. Lost and Insecure

Her breathing was steady, in the deep stages of sleep, her eyelids fluttering with her dreams. She'd fallen asleep reading, something she did often, in order to distract herself into unconsciousness. Her potions made her uneasy, the effects and the total lack of control over when she slept and when she woke, how easily someone could creep into her room.

Like now, he thought with a smirk, watching her chest rising and falling, her cats curled in on themselves, hiding their faces with their tails. Here he was, standing in the middle of her room, watching her sleep, invading her defenses. She dressed far too plainly, in his opinion, she had a very nice body, petite and curvy in all of the correct places, although he didn't know where incorrect places would be.

Frantic knocking caused her to blink and look around her room dazedly, completely missing him in his gaseous form, before her eyes widened and she catapulted herself out of bed, ripping open the door and running to her front door, looking in the peep hole as he seethed and followed.

"What's going on?" she asked, ripping open the door to have the Winchesters – what the _hell_ were they doing there – enter, Dean limp against his brother as Sam moved and laid him down on her couch when she shut the door.

"He got the thing, the squeezy-bug thing, help me get it off of him, please, Hermione," Sam begged.

Hermione snapped into action, flinging a leg over Dean's torso, seemingly clawing at his throat, rubbing a couple of fingers over his chest, looking very strangely intimate.

"Sam, go into my kitchen, go get sage or – or rosemary? Get both, throw it into my fire, bring back a shoe box, it's sitting on the counter," she said, humming as he jumped up and rushed into the specified room. "I should really put that out before I go to bed." She turned her eyes back to Dean, hissing when she pried it off from his chest, bright red blood appearing, gushing as his heart pumped as she slowly unwound the creature's limb from around his neck.

Sam tossed the herbs into the fire, holding open the shoe box and slamming it shut when she tossed the thing into it, throwing the whole thing into the fire at her order.

Dean's eyes flicked open and his rasped for air, blinking up at Hermione, smiling down at him. He wondered if they knew what they were missing, that they were the gaping holes in their lives, but then remembered that he didn't really care.

"You owe me," she said primly, moving her attention to Dean's chest, pressing her palms there to stop the blood flow, blinking for a moment at the tattoo before shaking her head. "Sam, think you can get me some gauze and a clean rag?"

Sam sighed, a tired smile on his face, and nodded, getting up once again to get what she needed as Dean seemed to fully grasp what was going on.

"You know, I really don't mind this position we're in, but I wish there was a little less blood," he croaked, a small grin on his face as he lazily looked up at her as she snorted.

"Right, yeah, because I'm absolutely attractive right now," she smirked back, unaware that the disheveled hair and the careless clothes was what had captured his interest in the first place – both of them, the hunter and he, were both interested by the differences of the witch, but not interested in the same things, "Don't worry, Lover Boy, we'll get you patched up."

_How cute_, he thought with glee, _it's so utterly heartbreaking, they have no idea. _

"Alright, Sweetheart," he sighed before both of them went rigid, and worry crept into his core before she cleared her throat and shifted so that she was sitting at his side instead, hands still pressing into his chest, his blood staining her fingers.

"Here you go," Sam said, handing her the rag, making her smile and remove her hands, wiping away the blood from the wound so that she could see.

"It isn't too bad, you got him here fast enough," she hummed, a small frown marring her pretty features. "It's close to his heart though, it'll keep pumping, I want him here so I can change his gauze, unless you can do it?"

"Nah, that's fine," Sam said shakily, running his fingers through his hair, "I thought they left bruises?"

"They kind of leave giant hickeys, rather, the bruises are when they suck out whatever blood contains life essence and then move on," she murmured, having Dean sit up, his shirt spilling to his elbows as he cringed and tried to stay still for her to wrap the gauze around his torso.

"So a giant, invisible parasite made out with my chest?" he asked.

"Hey, probably the only action you'll get in my flat."

Sam snorted as Dean's jaw dropped, regarding the small smile she wore, before Sam finally began to laugh, loud and contagious, and soon Dean was gripping his chest and laughing and saying "you bastard, this hurts!" Hermione chuckled as well, still wrapping layer upon layer around his skin, before she stood to wash off the blood from her hands, Dean tugging his shirt back on before laying back on her couch.

He needed to move very fast, if the look in the older Winchester's eyes was any indication.

* * *

**So, okay, I'm not normally this morbid-ish (I have some off days, shuddup) but I've been reading the Rizzoli & Isles books - I love that show, and the books are so...oh my god. I'm on the second one, _the Apprentice_, and Hoyt is creepy as fuck, but _the Surgeon_ - the first one - is just...ugh. My lamp flicked off while I was reading and I flipped my shit, okay? I love creepy books. I'm getting ready for Halloween. Anyway, yeah, if you want something creepy to read, read those. And then freak out with me. Love you ~**


	25. You Found Me, You Found Me

"Uhh, Dr. Granger?"

She ripped the headphones from her ears and flushed, as she'd been singing to her music in her office, her secretary and an obvious new client standing in the doorway, the secretary looking amused as the man gave a small smirk. He was tall, with broad shoulders, and an unreadable look in his eyes.

"Kathy," she cleared her throat and smoothed her hair back, "Uhh…thank you."

"I tried knocking," Kathy stated. "You didn't hear me."

"Kathy," she looked at her pointedly and the secretary nodded and moved back to her desk. "I'm terribly sorry about that."

"It's quite alright," the man stated, moving towards her with his hand outstretched, "You have a beautiful voice."

She flushed at the praise and shook his hand, "I'm Doctor Granger, but please call me Hermione."

"I am Mister…Hyde," he smiled, moving to a seat in front of her desk as she set aside her music player and sat down in her seat.

"What can I help you with, Mister Hyde?" she questioned.

"Well, Hermione, I have a few questions," he began, "Do you believe that there are certain incidents that can…alter the atmosphere in a room? In a house?"

"Psychologically speaking?"

"Just casually speaking," he said.

"I believe that there are some things that become absorbed in the structure of a house, some things that can't be erased," she decided, remembering the stories that Sam and Dean had told her. She would surely miss those two, having watched them pack up and drive off, off to whatever hunt awaited them. She still had Sam's e-mail address, of course, and could use the landline in her office if she needed to, but it wouldn't quite be the same.

"There is a house just outside of town that I would request you to investigate," he said before he began to backtrack, "I'm doing research, and I believe that you are one of a select group of people who are so in tuned to the supernatural."

"Well, I'm not busy," she said, feeling her wand in her back pocket of her slacks before nodding and grabbing her blazer, "Alright, we'll head out there. Mind if I ride with you?"

He smirked and stood, towering over her, "Of course not."

* * *

"I can drive," Dean insisted again, stopped at a gas station, a few minutes away from the motel room they had just cleaned and checked out of.

Sam shook his head, standing outside of the Impala, "Hermione said no strenuous activity."

"I think she said that to keep me from flirting anymore," Dean snorted, taking out his phone and dully flipping through his text messages, "Which did not work." He paused at a number he didn't recognize, his last outgoing message being a "yes ma'am." He thought for a moment, going through a mental list of who this number could've belonged to, before going through the messages he'd sent to this number. Panic swelled in his chest – had he been possessed for those few months? Had someone been walking around, masquerading as him, without anyone noticing? Sam had lapses in memory too, not as much as Dean, had he been possessed as well?

He pressed a button and held the phone to his ear, unaware that a lone cell phone was locked away in a house that hadn't been lived in for months, ringing relentlessly for its former occupants. There was a beep before his eyes widened at the familiar voice.

"_'Lo, this is Hermione, I'm probably trying to keep the Winchesters from killing themselves, if it's that important, you know how to get ahold of me, if not just leave a voicemail and I'll get back to you!_"

He had met Hermione a few weeks ago. He had not been texting her four months prior, they had never met, he had never seen her with a cell phone.

"Sam, get in the car, we need to check on Hermione," Dean ordered as he got out of the car and moved to the driver's seat.

"What, why?" Sam asked as he pulled the nozzle out of the tank and moved to the passenger seat. As a response, Dean handed him his phone as he drove out of the parking lot.


	26. Lying On the Floor, Where Were You

"Let me go, you son of a bitch!"

"Nah ah, Darling, I need you nice and restrained," Hyde said with a wicked grin, noticing the sense of déjà vu that flitted across her features, "I've seen what you can do."

Her blazer was ripped and thrown over a couch, and she was tied down to a hook in the floor, arms over her head, legs tied together and tied to the floor as well, and he was hovering over her, eyes glowing red, teeth glinting.

"What are you, what do you want from me?" she growled, disgust on her face.

"I am a demon," he cooed, weaving his fingers through her hair, making her flinch away. "Aww, those bad men have really made you scared, haven't they?"

Her chin jutted forward and her eyes flashed, "I'm not scared of you."

"Oh, you should be. You don't know how to get rid of demons, do you? Oh, this is going to be so fun." He pressed his fingers to the fluttering of her neck, "You know what a coup de grâce is, don't you? A death blow. An act of mercy, to end a suffering. You're suffering, and you don't even know it. You want to know what I'm going to do? I'm going to cut open your pretty little neck and let you watch your own blood pour out. I'm going to tell you everything that I made you forget while you're bleeding out, and then I'm going to take pictures to send to your boyfriend once his battles are over and I make him remember you."

Hermione stared up at him in wide-eyed horror. He made her forget, made her forget someone who she apparently cared about? And then he'd hurt him, using her? That made her sicker than anything he was going to do involving her blood.

"You're a coward," she spat in disgust, "You hide behind taunts and tricks, but you're _nothing._"

His smile was cold, and he brought out a small blade, pressing it against one side of her neck, grinning when she sucked in a breath, but refused to cry out. "You're strong. I admired that in you. You know, if you didn't have such yummy blood, we might've been friends."

She sucked in gulps of air, gritting out "fat chance" as he slowly dragged the blade a little away from the starting point.

"You know what, Granger?" he asked with that same smile. "You would've been happy. He would've given up what he'd spent his whole life doing, and you two would've been happy together. But then life just has to step in and fuck everything up, doesn't it? Ironic, talking about life, while I'm taking yours."

"You can go fuck yourself," she gasped.

He gave a malicious sneer, raised the blade, and Hermione sucked in possibly her last breath before a loud bang sounded in the air, making the demon choke and cough, clutching at his middle, spluttering something dark.

"Hey," Dean panted as he slid next to her, taking out his own pocket knife and carefully cutting her hands free, placing one of his hands over her neck, "So – we even?"

"Even," she sighed, pressing her hands over his when she was free, Sam cutting the restraints on her legs. "What're you two - ?"

"It's a long story," Dean sighed before smiling down at her, waving a box of band-aids that he'd pulled out of his jacket pocket, "See? I bet you love me right now."

She smiled back, allowing him to messily wipe the blood away with his thumb and place one of the large squares over the thankfully smaller-than-intended cut. She sat up slowly, aware that her hair was drenched in sweat and that she was shaking, and Dean stood to help her up, only to catch her again when her legs gave way.

"Hey, Sweetheart, what's going on?" he asked, moving to bridal carry her.

"I just – this is wild," she sighed, leaning into him for comfort, shaking her head.

"Come on, we'll take you home and explain some things," Sam offered, moving to the driver's seat as Dean settled her in the back, climbing in next to her and slinging her legs over his lap. As Sam started the car, Hermione lay back in the seat and covered her face with her hands, breathing deeply, the smell of old leather and familiar scents that she couldn't place trying to help calm her down.

"Are you sure you're okay? We can take you to a hospital," Dean said, rubbing her leg where she'd been tied down, as she'd rubbed it raw, much like with her hands.

"I'm just trying not to break down," she said before giving a sniff and a sigh, "I'll be fine." She hoped.


	27. Where Were You

**I'm sorry if it sucks I'm kind of out of it at the moment you know how it is when you're sick and everything **

* * *

"If you fucking touch me I swear to God – "

Dean held his hands in surrender, trying not to grin, because Hermione was trying to work up the nerve to rip off the bandage so she could heal it, after she'd explained to the boys all about her magic and everything. The area was still tender, and it was her _neck_, and she felt reluctant to pull it off.

Sam, however, let Dean distract her enough and leaned over the back of the couch to grab a corner and rip it off, making her yelp and slap a hand over the wound, glaring at the youngest Winchester as he grinned and threw it away.

She sighed and took her wand out, Dean sitting down next to her and watching as she first conjured a small mirror, and then began to heal the cut.

"So what happened there, anyway?" Sam asked, washing his hands at her kitchen sink, looking around to find something to cook.

"He tied me down and attempted to kill me," she answered before faltering, "He said I had a boyfriend."

Dean arched an eyebrow and shared a glance with Sam.

"But he made me forget him?" she rubbed her face, sighing, "He said he'd take pictures and send them to him once he'd done this big battle or something."

Dean's eyes widened and he leaned a little closer to her, "Anything else?"

She lowered her hands and stared at her coffee table, which was littered with rings and stains. "He said we were happy. He would've given up something to be with me, something he did his whole life." She leaned into the cushions and shut her eyes, "This has been a very long day."

"Hermione, do you…do you have a cell phone?" Sam questioned as Dean began to search his pockets.

She blinked, "No, I don't. Who would I talk to? I can write to anyone in England, most of them don't even know what a phone looks like, and I'm pretty much reclusive anyway."

Dean offered his phone, already ringing, having searched for the number beforehand, and she slowly took it. They watched her face carefully while she continued to stare at her coffee table. Once the message was played, she lowered it and stared at the small device.

"Hermione, if you can tell us anything…" Sam began.

"I…I don't remember months of this past year. I remember waking up and realizing that I hadn't changed my calendar, that it was stuck on months ago," she answered slowly, rubbing her hands, "I am…confused."

"We were the same way," Dean offered, Sam nodding as well and getting out pots and pans, "We just woke up one day and it's fucking July."

"Do you think this is all connected?" Hermione asked, biting a nail, "This can't be coincidence."

"Right," Dean nodded, "We need to figure this out."

Hermione lit up before deflating, pouting a little and running her fingers over where the wound had been, "I highly doubt there are any books on this, it would take forever."

Dean smirked and Sam sighed, trying to figure out how to turn on her stove. "See, that's when angel power comes in handy."

"Angels?" Hermione blinked, "Angels are real?"

"Yup," Dean said smugly, "You just have to pray to 'em."

"Any happy little thought?" she hummed dully, making Sam snort in the kitchen as Dean gave her a glare.

"Shush, Glenda," he said, swiping at her nose, making her frown back at him. Dean was silent for a few moments, furrowing his eyebrows, before there was a flutter of wings, and Hermione was suddenly being hugged by a man in a trench coat, who had lifted her out of her seat and was hugging her tightly.

"You are uninjured, yes?" he asked as Hermione, Dean and Sam stared at Castiel with wide eyes. He held her head in his hands and checked over her, pursing his lips, "I have been trapped in the house for months, and have not been able to guard you properly."

"Who are you again?" Hermione asked.

Castiel blinked before sighing, "The demon took your memories, didn't he? I wish you had come to me before you made that decision."

"Cas, what are you talking about?" Dean asked, standing and gently taking Hermione away from the angel.

Castiel stared between the two before seeming to deflate, "You don't remember one another?"

Hermione glanced up at Dean, who was looking back at her curiously. They looked back to the angel as Sam wrestled with a box of spaghetti noodles.

Castiel sighed, shoulders slumped, "I was afraid this would happen."

"Cas, what are you talking about?" Dean questioned.

Instead of answering, he reached out and grabbed their shoulders, telling Sam that he'd be right back with them, before the three left, and reappeared in the middle of a dusty, darkened living room.

"Where are we?" Dean asked as Hermione looked around, running her fingers through the dust.

"You three lived here, as there was a very big threat looming, and I saw to it to protect you," Castiel told them, his face grim, "Dean is very important in an upcoming battle – Hermione would have tipped the outcome to our favor, but the demons found a way to dispose of her and leave Dean intact for the duration of the battle."

"Don't even, don't you dare, don't – don't – don't," Hermione began, backing away from the two as Dean started to process this. "Don't tell me, just don't fucking – "

"You two were – are – involved," Castiel said, making Hermione groan and slide down the wall she'd backed into. Dean looked over at Hermione, watching her as she hid her face in her hands and shook her head. "Hermione, why are you reacting like this?"

"Because I don't like this!" she crowed, looking up and glaring at the angel, "I don't like almost being taken out by a demon, I don't like being signed up for a war, I don't like being told that I'm dating someone that I really don't know all that well, and I _really_ don't like not remembering someone that I probably care very much about!"

"Yeah, I agree with her," Dean frowned, "Maybe you guys are wrong, you ever thought of that?"

Castiel frowned between the two, crossing his arms over his chest, "You two are incredibly stubborn."

"You aren't the first person to tell me that," Hermione snorted, rolling her eyes and standing, crossing her arms over her chest as well. "We need some proof."

"Hey, good idea, I like that," Dean hummed before Castiel dully whipped out a cell phone, making the two lean in to see that there was a picture, of them, with Dean sitting on the couch and Hermione towed into him, the two laughing, Dean's arms wrapped around her and Hermione's hand in his hair.

"We…were?" Hermione asked, looking up at Dean as he continued to examine the picture, eyebrows raised.

"Are," Castiel corrected. He pocketed the phone and looked between the two as they looked at each other, Hermione biting her lip and Dean looking at her curiously.

"Well, can't you fix it?" Dean asked, Hermione looking to the angel hopefully.

"I…cannot," he winced, "Once the battle has been won, then I can."

"Well why can't you do it now?" Hermione frowned, hands on her hips.

"My powers are very limited as of right now – you are fortunate that I managed to answer your prayers at all," Castiel stated.

"So I guess I'm taking as all back to my flat then?" Hermione questioned.

"Actually, I would request that you bring Sam instead," Castiel said as the two shared glances, "This is a much safer place."

"You're saying my flat isn't safe?" Hermione huffed.

"The demon was in your apartment," Castiel stated, watching curiously as Hermione paled. "Is this news shocking?"

"That bastard was in my home?" she asked, "He watched me?"

Castiel's eyes widened and he glanced to Dean before he cleared his throat. "Perhaps I should attempt to retrieve Sam." And with that, he was gone, leaving Hermione to groan and sink into the couch, hugging her knees to her chest.

"This has been the weirdest day _ever_," Dean decided as he flopped into the cushion next to her, arms thrown over the back of the couch, accidentally bumping a curl.

"This has been the _worst_ day ever," she amended, sighing and leaning into the cushion, rubbing her face.

"It'll work out, Sweetheart," Dean tried to soothe, but it only caused both of them to tense up. Dean groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, frowning, "Eventually, but not right now."


	28. Things Are Shaping Up to be Pretty Odd

Hermione sighed and stretched, opening her eyes and blinking when she didn't see her room in her apartment, but was still struck with a strong sense of familiarity. With a groan, she remembered the events of the day before, and got up to get dressed, tugging on a pair of jeans and a tank top, not even registering that she'd be showing off all of her scars. As she hopped down the stairs, she faltered when she heard voices, one of them being Dean's. She did not like being told what to do, and often strove to go against such orders, and so she was feeling extremely wary of going downstairs.

"Hey, Hermione!" Sam called, apparently having seen her as he walked past the doorway, "Come on, there's something you gotta see."

With a silent sigh, Hermione moved into the kitchen, picking a seat far enough away from Dean and looking curiously at the strange looking map on the table. She jumped when a pair of hands settled on her shoulders, looking up to see a grinning man with rather long brown hair and a strangely structured face.

"Hey there, Honey, heard you had a tumble with an underling, how'd that go?" he asked.

"Who're you?" she blinked.

The man snorted, looking highly offended, and Dean rolled his eyes behind a cup of coffee.

"Gabriel, archangel, he plays pranks, don't get friendly with him," Dean offered as Sam sat down a mug in front of her, moving to a seat in between her and Dean.

"I am offended," Gabriel gasped, hand to his chest, "Remember, Winchester, I helped your little girly. Oh, wait, _that's right_! You _don't_ remember!"

"You mean Hermione?" Sam blinked, "Why, what happened to Hermione?"

"Ahh, that's another time – now, witchy-poo, tell me what you see," Gabriel began, motioning to the map.

"Battle tactics, I'm assuming," she said, picking her feet up into the chair with her, sipping her drink and smiling when she found out Sam had given her tea. "Seems rather messy."

"Well, that's war," Gabriel shrugged.

"No, unorganized," she corrected, "You've got two separate teams going in the same direction – leaving one to fend for itself with the biggest chunk of the opposing force."

Gabriel paused while the brothers shared amused glances.

"Well, uhm – " he began.

"I know that there are probably loads of angels who can't wait to get out on a battlefield, but eagerness has never won any wars before," Hermione shook her head, "Besides, it looks like you have no idea who you're fighting against, it's just big blobs of ink on parchment, isn't it?"

"Actually, those are what they look like," Sam said before correcting himself, "Well, some of them."

Hermione blinked before peering further at the map, noticing that there was a small amount of detail involved.

"Dementors?" Hermione murmured, setting her mug aside and moving to get a closer look, "Why would they have dementors? The only one who can get dementors to work for them is…." Panic flooded her system, and she waved her wand, scrambling to find the small detail on the map.

"Fucking _shit_!" she yelled, startling the boys and making Gabriel cackle with glee. "Who the _fuck_ brought this bastard back?"

"Which one?" Dean asked, moving to see what she saw. She took a breath, moving her finger to the pale face with red eyes. "Who is he?"

"One of the princess's enemies," Gabriel offered, "Ol' No-Nose tried to wipe out a huge chunk of the wizarding population."

"Anyone that wasn't a Pureblood," she sighed, sinking back into her seat, "Anyone who wasn't magical. He tried to kill anyone that opposed him too."

"So someone broke him out of prison?" Sam questioned.

"No," she pursed her lips, "They brought him back from the dead."

* * *

"You have absolutely no idea what you're doing, do you?"

Dean looked up and frowned at the British woman, standing behind the couch and looking over his shoulder at his plans – well, what they were trying to pass off as plans. "Can I help you?" he asked instead as she jumped over the back of the couch and plopped down next to him, pointing at a few spots on his little map.

"You're dealing with reanimated wizards, they're going to throw some things you haven't seen before at you," she stated. "You and Sam are going to need some heavy protection spells."

"I think we can handle just fine, thanks," he huffed.

She sighed, rolling her eyes, "I'm fighting this too, you know that, right? You and Sam aren't the only ones who care." She stood and moved back to her room, Dean watching her as she left before he turned back to the map and crossed some things out.


	29. Put On Your War Paint

Dean watched her carefully as she sat on the couch, wand flicking over his jacket, murmuring, watching the sparks fly off and sink into the material, Sam watching in fascination.

"So what do all of these spells do?" Sam asked.

"Protection, keep you safe from most things, or have them bounce back and hit whoever cast them," she answered, finishing off with a quick twirl of her wand, handing the jacket back to Dean and starting on Sam's. "Do you think Castiel and Gabriel need the help?"

"Doubt it," Dean said once he'd inspected his jacket, making sure there was nothing wrong with it, and shrugged it on, glancing over the witch's clothing and noticing that she had on jeans, boots and a tank top. "You aren't going to fight a battle in that, are you?"

She paused for a moment, her wand still hovering over Sam's jacket, before she continued, reaching a hand up when a mass of brown came flying from the staircase. She set her jacket down next to her, still working on Sam's.

"How did you do that?" Sam asked eagerly.

"Wordless and wandless magic," she hummed, "I'm not taking any chances on these, or otherwise I'd do the same." She handed him his jacket, shrugging hers on and arching an eyebrow at Dean. "Better?"

He shrugged, seeming indifferent, and she rolled her eyes before moving to the kitchen, ruffling up Castiel's hair affectionately, as he was squinting across the table at Gabriel, who seemed very laidback.

"You three ready?" Gabriel questioned.

"Think so," Sam answered, "Where is this taking place, anyway?"

"The Lonely Mountain," Hermione answered, making Dean snort and have her blink over at him in surprise. "Don't tell me – you've read _the Hobbit_?"

"Hey, that's a badass book," he defended.

She snorted and smiled, settling her hands on her hips, "That's a nerdy book."

"Hey, you're the one who quoted it," he pointed out.

"Well it's no secret that I'm a nerd, now is it?"

"Children," Gabriel said as he stood, "Now is not the time to flirt. You can do that – and other things – freely when you have your memories back."

Their faces flushed and they fixed Gabriel with heated glares while he only seemed to grin wider.

"It is in neutral territory," Castiel said as he stood, answering the earlier question.

"What, Switzerland?" Hermione joked.

Castiel nodded and she blinked in surprise.

"Really?" Dean asked, "Switzerland?"

"There's a lot of fields," Sam shrugged, "Not as many people could get hurt."

"But…why?" Dean blinked, "We could have it in a desert or the arctic tundra, why Switzerland?"

"Scenery," Gabriel shrugged as well before clapping and grinning, turning to Hermione, "Alright, Kiddo, whenever you're ready."

Hermione rolled her eyes, reaching out to grab Sam and Castiel, Castiel grabbing Gabriel and Sam grabbing Dean, and was left to chuckle at the four gagging and holding their heads when they reappeared in a large field near a forest.

"That was unpleasant," Castiel announced, looking rather green.

"Not fun," Gabriel agreed.

"Better than that angel shit you two pull," Dean coughed, Sam nodding and rubbing his temples.

Hermione smiled before a voice carried in the wind, making her turn around and pale at what she saw before she began to yell, "Harry James Potter, what the _hell_ are you doing here?"

Harry jogged up to her, the Winchesters and angels watching curiously, while the others chose to keep a safe distance. "One of the angels told us what was happening, we wanted to help."

"No, I refuse," she glared, "Harry, you've got a family, you can't do this!"

"What, just because you haven't got one connected by blood, you think you can?" Harry argued before settling a hand on her shoulder, "Hermione, you've always been there to help me. Let me help you, for once."

Hermione faltered, glancing back at the group, some of them Weasleys, some from school, a couple of people she didn't even know, but must've been from the Ministry. "You're not getting hurt, Ginny would kill me."

Harry grinned, hugging her while the wind got more violent, "Neither are you, Ginny would kill me." She snorted into his shirt as he ruffled up her hair. He pulled away as Luna, Fred and George were the first to venture towards Hermione, turning to the Winchesters and smiling. "I got to hand it to you two, you really wound her down."

Dean and Sam shared confused glances while Gabriel coughed into a fist.

"They do not remember you," Castiel pointed out.

Harry blinked, looking over at the angel and tilting his head, "Why?"

"Long story," Dean shrugged as Sam looked up at the dark clouds rolling in.

"Guys," Sam began, "I think it's starting."

Hermione returned to the Winchesters, looking worriedly between the two, "You'll be alright, right?"

"Yeah, of course, Sweetheart," Dean grinned, but Hermione didn't look convinced.

"Don't worry about us, Hermione," Sam told her, "Just worry about you, alright?"

She reluctantly nodded, watching as the wizards moved closer to the forest, before she turned and hugged Sam tightly, ruffling up his hair. "You better be alright, okay? You have a distinct advantage of being taller than everyone – don't ignore that."

Sam snorted and hugged her back, "Yeah, okay." He released her, and Castiel was the first to hug her, carefully, as if he were afraid he'd break her.

"Please be careful, Hermione," he stated, "I cannot watch over you right now."

"I'll be fine, Angel Boy, don't worry about me," she said, releasing him and turning to Dean, who shifted uncomfortably.

"Look, I don't want either of us getting killed her and then getting our memories back, because that'll be depressing as fuck, alright?" Dean stated, "You be careful, I'll be careful, got it, Sweetheart?"

Hermione smiled and hugged him around the neck, "Sure."

Dean smiled and hugged her back for a moment before they parted and turned to the noises coming out of the forest.

"Alright," he said, reaching for his gun, "Let's get this shit over with."


	30. Sometimes I Wish for Falling

"Hermione!"

"Boys, if you keep focusing on what I'm doing, we're never going to get anything done!" Hermione snapped, reaching up and kicking a Death Eater off of her, feeling a strong sense of déjà vu, shooting up and cursing them away, watching as they disappeared in a vapor. She had no idea how long they'd been at this, and had no idea where a majority of people were. There were dementors, and Death Eaters, which she was used to, but there were other sorts of creatures that she couldn't even begin to describe, roaming around and attacking her friends.

"Hermione," Castiel said, moving to her, appearing from seemingly nowhere, "Are you alright?"

Hermione scoffed and rolled her eyes, "I'll be fine, stop worrying about me, I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself." She dodged a hex, growling when a woman with voluminous black hair cackled and moved to the younger girl before Castiel came between them.

"I am an Angel of the Lord," Castiel announced to Bellatrix, raising a hand and tugging Hermione behind him, "And you are not to hurt her or anyone else again."

"I don't believe in angels," Bellatrix sneered.

"Hope you believe in Hell, or you'll be confused for eternity," he stated before there was a flash of blinding light and he released Hermione, blinking at the charred spot of grass before she grinned up at the angel.

"That was a very nice comeback, I'm impressed," she smiled.

He blinked down at her, "Why would I return when I have not left?"

She groaned, seeing that it had been short lived, and moved to Harry, who was wiping a trickle of blood from his forehead.

"Have you seen Voldemort yet?" Hermione asked.

Harry pursed his lips and nodded towards the line of trees, "I saw him, a couple of blokes and Dean go into the forest."

"Thomas or Winchester?"

"Winchester," Dean Thomas said as he dashed by, wearing an "oh shit" look as Seamus followed, an eyebrow smoking as they passed, a fire probably having started somewhere, if the shrieks were anything to go by.

"Let's go – I'll take out the blokes, you get Tom, see if Dean needs any sort of help," Hermione said, Harry nodding and moving with her quietly into the forest, wands at the ready as they crept further into the density of the trees.

"I feel like I need the cloak," Harry whispered, making her quirk a smile and nod, eyes still watching every shadow. It hadn't been too long, she realized, when she and Harry had been in a War. Compared to everything, it'd only been a short time, and she'd dragged Harry right back into it, with the same villains.

"I'm sorry," she hissed.

"For what?" he asked, whispering back, his back pressed against hers.

"Dragging you into this," she answered, hearing him snort and sensing that he was rolling his eyes.

"We'll argue about this later," he decided, "I go this way, you go that way? It's been quiet too long."

She nodded, and out of habit threw out a "stay safe."

"You too," he murmured before the solidity and warmth of his body left, and she was moving along crunching leaves and passing deeper and deeper through the forest, frowning when she came to a clearing, noticing that there were absolutely no leaves anywhere, none that had been blown by the wind, and the grass was too green.

Against her better judgment, she edged into the proverbial spotlight, feeling something watching her, watching the line of trees. It was far too quiet, she couldn't hear anything from outside of the forest, or any birds or other noisy woodland creatures. She could only hear her breathing and the thumping in her chest, fast and heavy, as if it would leap out of her chest.

"Hermione," a voice called, making her spin around and blink as Dean, bloody and cradling his chest, moved towards her, covered in dirt with blood dripping from his mouth.

"Dean!" she called, rushing to him as he collapsed, hands fluttering about him uselessly, panic flooding her brain and rendering her useless. "Oh God, Dean, what happened?"

"He came at me – I didn't see him," he coughed up more blood, "Wasn't how you pictured this going, huh, Babe?"

_What, no Sweetheart?_ She thought bitterly, tears pooling in her eyes before she stopped and gave a sniff, looking down at him, his eyes shut. _Are they that same green, or are they yellow, or red? What color are demon eyes?_

"Dean?" she asked weakly.

"Yeah?" he croaked, eyes still shut.

"Tell me if this hurts," she brought her hand down and slapped his wound forcefully, thinking that if this was actually Dean, then he was dead anyway.

He sucked in a breath and his eyes wrenched open, curling in on the impact, and she jumped away from him, wand aimed at his face.

"You bastard," she spat as he watched her carefully. "You're sick, you know that?"

"Ahh, but it distracted you, didn't it?" he grinned, yellow eyes glinting, blood still on his chin.

"Distracted me from what?" she growled.

"You're too far away for back-up for your wizard friend, aren't you?" he chuckled, standing and advancing on her, blood dripping off of him. "You know, when they said that you tipped the scale, I didn't get it. Still don't. What can you do? How powerful are you?" He leapt out and grabbed her wand, snapping it in half, watching with satisfaction as she gasped and clutched her chest, as if it actually hurt. "Especially without your little toy. Wand chooses the wizard, right? So that was your only, perfect match. Just like he – " he motioned to the body he mimicked, " – was too. Looks like you lost both, huh, Sweethea – "

A loud bang echoed in the air, and the demon gagged and clutched at his chest, where she watched as a gaping hole oozed dark blood, and he dropped, Dean leaning against a tree and dropping his aim, glaring at his double.

"Nobody calls her that except me, asshole," he spat.

"Dean?" she asked cautiously, "Are you actually - ?"

"Yeah," he cleared his throat in discomfort, managing a small smile, "Hey. You walking in here distracted him enough from noticing that I wasn't dead yet."

"You will be if we don't get you help," she decided.

"We gotta burn him," he motioned to his body and blinked before tilting his head, "Wow, I'm hot."

She snorted and moved to him, pressing her palm to his abdomen and murmuring to herself. She tensed when there was rustling in the tree behind her, making her turn when Dean sucked in a breath, and she grimaced at the dark shapes moving closer.

"I don't have that many rounds," he warned.

"Time to leave," she decided, waving her hand and watching as the fire sprung up, spreading quickly towards the dark shapes and consequently _them_.

"Run, go, go!" Dean urged, running behind her, ready to pick her up if she fell.

She panted and pushed her legs against the earth, feeling the heat on her back, and called out to Harry with Legilimens. _Harry, you need to get out of the forest._ For one second, fear gripped her heart and she wondered if he would even answer, or if she'd just broadcasted to emptiness.

_Gotcha, out with the others, _was his reply, and Hermione gave an audible sigh, Dean cursing behind her and jumping over a limb.

"Come on, you're close!" Sam called, urging them on from the thinning line of trees.

"Shit!" Hermione gasped as the ground came tumbling closer to her, Dean immediately grabbing her arm to help her up, and she saw the towering orange and yellow flames, roaring and crackling with its kindling, and she grabbed onto Dean's shirt with a gasp, popping him away to the safety of the field, the two of them landing on a hill, panting and breathing as the fire quietly stuck to the trees.

"You okay?" Sam asked, jogging towards them.

"Oh my God, we're actually alive," Dean whispered, Hermione snorting and laughing at his side, lying in the grass, seeing the clouds begin to lighten a little.

"Everyone just kind of went…uhm…poof," Sam blinked back with a grin. "What happened?"

"I think we burned anyone that caused the reanimation," Hermione decided.

"She did, I just stood there," Dean corrected, "Only thing I did was get beaten up and shot a demon."

"Same thing as usual, huh?" Sam grinned, the smiles and chuckles copied onto their faces, Harry moving towards his friend with a smile before he saw the three tense, their eyes wide.

"Hermione? Guys?" he asked worriedly.

"Chill out," Gabriel said as he moved towards him, swiping off his shoulders of soot and dust, "Cas is working on their memories. Our power got flicked on again."

"So they'll be alright?" he asked.

"Ehh, as alright as they can be," he shrugged, giving him a salute and a cheeky grin, "General." He disappeared without the characteristic loud pop, and Harry blinked before Sam straightened up and shook his head, blinking as Hermione and Dean did as well, staring up at the sky.

"Whoa," Sam said in surprise before frowning, turning to the two lying side by side on the grass, "You guys suck! Not only did you make your own lives miserable, but mine too! Nobody every thinks about the third party!"

"Oh shut up," Dean said with a grin, rubbing his chest as Hermione sat up and wrapped her arms around her stomach, blanching from the feeling. "Do you know how many times I almost cheated on Hermione? Oh my God, I'd kill myself before she had the chance to if I had."

"Ahh, subconscious guilt," Sam grinned as well before looking worriedly at Hermione. "You alright?"

"Just…kind of lost," she admitted, pouting up at Harry, "The bastard broke my wand. And then I burned it!"

Tears were advancing, and Harry knew from experience that he would be completely useless if she were to start crying. But Dean smiled and grabbed her shoulders, towing her down next to him, being careful not to have her hit his chest. He kissed the top of her head, still grinning.

"You'll be fine, Sweetheart," he murmured, making her smile and reach up to kiss his cheek.

"Aww, now they're going to be all mushy," Seamus groaned, and Dean Thomas elbowed him in the ribs, fixing him with a glare. "Well they are!"

"Thanks for announcing what we already knew," Harry snorted as Dean laughed, because Hermione was blushing and hiding her face with her hands.


	31. Wish for the Release

"Hey, Sweetheart."

Dean huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and arched an eyebrow as she entered his room, shutting the door behind her and setting down an armful of books on his dresser. He, she, and Sam had gone straight home, Hermione working on Dean's injuries while Sam took a shower and went straight to bed, despite it being two in the afternoon. As soon as he was finished, she'd gone to take her own shower and apparently bring him reading material. "No, that's my thing to call _you_. You have to be more original."

She snorted and grinned, "You can't just _own_ the word." She hopped over him and laid down, sighing lengthily and running her fingers through her hair.

"How're you feeling?" he asked.

"Sore," she murmured before he pecked her forehead, making her grin. "But happy."

"Same here," he chuckled, pecking her lips, "God, I missed you."

"How could you miss me when you didn't remember me?" she teased.

"It felt weird," he shrugged, smiling when she rolled her eyes and laid her head on his chest, leaning into him and sighing once again.

"This whole mess has just been weird," she said.

"Well, yeah, but we got over it, didn't we?" he grinned.

"Yeah," she hummed, before looking up at him and opening her mouth before shutting it and turning to look at her fingers.

"What?" he asked, taking one of her hands and tracing the lines there, the natural ones on her palms and the scars along the back of her hand.

"What the demon said…would you really give up hunting for me?" she watched him carefully, but he acted as if he hadn't heard her, instead keeping his gaze on her hand. "Maybe I shouldn't have brought it up, I'm – "

He snorted and grinned over, "Really? You think I wouldn't?"

"Well, yeah," she admitted.

"Hermione, if you wanted me to, I'd stop," he said before arching an eyebrow, "Do you want me to stop?"

She stared up at his ceiling, absentmindedly noting that the house looked very good for not being lived in by anyone – except a confined Castiel down in the basement – for a few months. "At this point in time, no."

He snorted and kissed her temple, mumbling against her skin, "You have to always be so precise, don't you?"

"Well it's better to be eloquent than confused," she argued as he chuckled and tossed an arm over her, settling down into the mattress with her and shutting his eyes. She sighed, shut her eyes as well, and went to sleep.


	32. It Started With a Whisper

"Dean!"

Dean poked his head out of the stairwell and blinked down at the redhead, who was grinning and holding a squirming little girl. He smiled and headed down the stairs, "Hey, Ginny, Hermione's out right now."

"Oh, I know," she said as he moved to her, "I came here to see you."

"Oh…uhh, why?" he blinked.

"Because, in the last nine – or is it ten? Hmm…maybe fifteen…anyway – in the last ten-ish years that I've known Hermione, we have never celebrated her birthday. Well, I mean, we've given a few gifts, odd bobbles, tied them in with Christmas, but my brothers and husband never really bothered to find out her birthday. It was in her sixth year when my mother finally remembered and asked, and we were all surprised when we realized that she was turning seventeen while we were all sixteen. In any case, with all the shi – uhh – " she blinked down at Jane, who was staring at her, her spongy brain absorbing all of her words. "With all that she's been through, we really think she'd deserve it."

"No offense, Ginny, but why are you telling me?" Dean questioned, shaking his head, "I don't know her as well as you guys do, I didn't grow up with her."

Ginny sighed, shifting Jane to her other hip, "Just because we grew up with her, doesn't mean we know her better than you. She's very…she closes herself off a lot. She had already been dating Jeff for two years before we found out about Isaiah, and we'd always had suspicions about Jeff, but…she worries about everyone else rather than herself, and I hate that about her sometimes, but it's true. She'll give you the good, make you think she's happy and healthy, but she'll never tell you what's wrong, or what she's been through. Did she tell you about that scar, on her arm? You must have seen it. How long did it take for her to tell you about it then?"

"Err…ten minutes after meeting her, give or take," Dean said, Ginny blinking in surprise before she focused her glare on a picture hanging in the entryway. "Uhm…I'm sorry?"

"No, it took me three months to hear what happened, and six months after that to hear the full story," she snorted, rolling her eyes before smiling up at Dean, "I'm glad she trusts you though. Oh, and also, I have the customary message from my brothers and Harry. The whole 'if you hurt her, we'll hurt you' thing? Yeah, crazy lot, anyway – about her birthday."

Dean held out his arms for Jane and Ginny blinked before smiling, switching the little girl over to the hunter and rolling her shoulders, swinging her arms freely. "Ginny, I'm sorry, but Hermione doesn't exactly come off as a party girl."

"Oh believe me, she isn't," Ginny chuckled, "You should've seen her when I dragged her out for my bachelorette party. Took her to a male strip club."

Dean snorted and began to grin as Ginny laughed at the memory.

"Merlin, her face was bright red, kept shielding her face and sending me death glares all night," she recalled before shaking her head, "Anyway, I'm getting off-topic. And with my baby in the room too, I'm the worst mother ever."

"Nah, you're a fun one," Dean shrugged, grinning as Jane cooed and patted his face.

"See? You're getting smarter just by hanging out with her," Ginny smiled. "But, no, seriously, Hermione doesn't get nearly enough appreciation, she's my best friend – certainly not that bint Ron married – I mean, I know she's my sister-in-law now and everything, but my _God_ that woman doesn't know when to shut up. I keep getting off-topic."

"It's fine, I don't mind at all," Dean grinned.

"I'll be here all day if I keep talking, and then it won't be a surprise," Ginny huffed at herself, "But we're going to set it up at the Burrow, and we'd appreciate it if you'd keep her distracted, never know when she might pop up."

"Yeah, sure," Dean shrugged as Ginny took Jane back, "No problem."

"Oh, and by the way," Ginny said before she stepped completely out of the door, "In my perfectly honest opinion, I think you're far better suited for her than my brother."

"What?" he blinked and gave a disbelieving smile, "What makes you say that?"

"You care about her," she pointed out, "With Ron, he just…he was self-centered. One of the many disadvantages of growing up in a big family, but at least he found someone who can stand him. And I'm glad that Hermione's found someone who can be there for her in the way she needs and deserves, not some abusive prat who is always 'me, me, me.'"

"Ginny, you barely know me, and you only learned about me and Hermione a few weeks ago," Dean said.

"Yeah, well, you're off to a far better start than any of the others," Ginny shrugged before sighing, "However, I still feel obligated to say – if you do hurt her, Dean, those boys will seem like a picnic compared to me."

Dean snorted and Ginny's eyes narrowed as he shook his head with a grin, thinking he was insulting her, "Ginny, if I did anything to Hermione, I can guarantee that you'd be searching for each body part all over the world. She's tough, she can take care of me in a heartbeat, and I'd never see it coming."

Ginny smiled and reached over to hug him with one arm, "You're the first who's ever admitted that. Believe me, you're off to a great start." Her eyes brightened up and she got a wicked grin, "And, who knows? Maybe Janie will have someone to play with soon enough."

He narrowed his eyes at her, "Don't push your luck, Potter."

"Hey, just saying," she shrugged, "Maybe you can pick the lock on her chastity belt, those male strippers certainly tried."

"Okay, the next time you come back, you're telling me that story," Dean insisted as Ginny laughed, nodding and walking out into the front yard to pop away.

"Was that Ginny?" Sam asked, poking his head out from his room, peering down the stairwell.

"Yeah, you just missed her," he said as he ascended the stairs, heading for his room.

"Did I hear something about male strippers?" he asked incredulously.

"Yup," he smirked, popping the 'p' and shutting the door behind him.


	33. And That Was When I Kissed Her

She sucked in a breath, giving him a small glare as he grinned and leaned down to kiss her.

"What is it?" he teased.

"Your hands are co-old!" she hissed again, gripping onto his shirt as he kissed under her jaw. "And no, you're not warming them up on me."

"But you're warm," he murmured. "Besides, there are a lot of ways to get warm. Those are a lot of fun."

She snorted, "Are you trying to get me to sleep with you?"

"That depends – is it working?"

She shook her head and smirked up at him, "It will if you shut up."

Dean blinked before grinning, kissing her deeply as he helped her take his shirt off, smiling against her lips as she tensed when his hands touched her skin, tracing the lines on her stomach and back underneath her shirt before he pulled away with a gasp. "Shit."

"What?" Hermione blinked.

"Dammit," he said instead, pulling away and reaching for his shirt as Hermione sat up and watched him curiously.

"What just happened here?" she asked.

"I almost made you late for your own birthday party, and that would've been bad," he said, tugging his shirt back on and ruffling his hair, trying to make it look normal. "Especially if someone came looking for you."

"What are you talking about?" Hermione blinked, "I never told you my birthday, who – Ginny."

"Yeah, also told me about the male stripper incident," he grinned as she covered her face and shook her head.

"Honestly, they had enough glitter on them," she muttered, shaking her head and getting up from the bed, running her hands through her hair and biting her lip. "This isn't going to be an easy fix."

Dean reached over on her dresser and held out a ponytail holder, making her smile and work with her curls to tie them up, grabbing a jacket and heading downstairs, where Sam and Cas were surprisingly absent.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

She faltered at the front door, "Ginny _knows_ I hate parties."

"Hey, the sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave," Dean offered with a smirk, holding the door open for her. She rolled her eyes and stepped outside, locking the door behind Dean before reaching over and taking his arm. She pecked his cheek and blinked down at her. "What was that for?"

"For getting that close to one of my best friends," Hermione smiled.

He snorted and pecked the top of her head, "Happy Birthday, Sweetheart."

* * *

"Missus Weasley, really, I can help out – "

"Shush!" she said, taking Jane and settling her in Hermione's lap, "We have it covered, it's not like the boys haven't cleaned dishes before. Sit here and watch the little ones – I won't have you working on your birthday." There was a loud crash from the kitchen and Molly huffed, turning around and already yelling. "I leave for two minutes, and you've already managed to break something!"

"Sorry, Mum," a few boys chorused, Hermione picking out Sam and Dean's laughter from the din. Harry plopped onto the couch next to her, letting out a slow breath.

"I am so glad I got out of kitchen duty," Harry admitted, making Hermione laugh as he turned and grinned at her. "So, how's your birthday so far?"

"Brilliant, all of you are wonderful, thank you," Hermione smiled.

"Hey, all of the credit goes to Ginny, Dean and Sam, even Castiel," Harry said with a smile, "You know, when you moved to America, I was worried that you'd just hole up somewhere with your cats. I saw a documentary about that, where an old woman gets so many cats so that when she dies – "

"Harry," she began warningly.

"Right, well, I was worried you would just be alone over there. And then Isaiah and Jeff happened, and I worried even more. But then you found some great people, even an angel, and I guess I stopped worrying."

Hermione smiled and leaned into Harry, Jane cooing and flexing her fingers. "Thanks, Harry."

"But if they do anything – " Harry began before Hermione began to laugh, Harry laughing as well, knowing that if the Winchesters did anything to her, they'd deeply regret it, as Hermione would make sure of that.

"Hey, Sweetheart – what's so funny?" Dean asked, sitting down on the other side of Hermione, shaking some water out of his hair.

"Nothing," Hermione grinned, handing Jane over to Dean, who rolled his eyes and smiled at the little girl.

"So," Harry started a little smugly, grinning between the two, "Have you two thought about having kids yet?"

"I am going to _murder_ you," Hermione warned, glaring at her best friend as Dean made a strangled, choking sound that made Jane stare at him curiously.

"Hey! What did you say when Ginny and I got married?" he exclaimed.

"Something about how I wasn't about to be a babysitter for an entire armada of little Potters, I think," she smiled, "I hated that dress."

"Well, based on the bachelorette party, I can guess what kind of dress it would be," Dean grinned.

Harry blinked curiously over at him, "You know what they did at that party?"

Hermione whirled over to Dean and grimaced, hissing into his ear, "You weren't supposed to tell him!"

"Uhh – no?" he winced before turning his attention over to Jane, "Hey, wow, you've gotten big! You ready to run for office yet, or do you need time to write your inaugural speech?"

Harry sighed, disappointed he would never know what had happened at his wife's bachelorette party, but smiled, "If Hermione gets ahold of her, she'll spend her toddler years running around and yelping about house elf rights."

"Would you let that _go_? It was one of my biggest failures and I was publicly laughed at – it was probably one of my top ten lowest moments, thank you very much," Hermione huffed.

"Well then of course we'll never let it go," Fred declared as he, George and Fleur walked into the room, Victoire balanced on George's shoulders and making Fleur flutter about worriedly.

"If the amazing Hermione Granger had a few low points, then we're entitled to far more," George shrugged, Victoire squealing and giggling as Fleur gripped at her hair and grimaced.

Hermione smiled and shook her head, Jane watching as her hair swished about, "I'm not some all-important wise mythological being, you know."

"Might as well be," the twins shrugged, making Hermione snort and roll her eyes before she hissed, moving her head as Jane yanked on her hair.

"Dean, little help here, Love," Hermione grimaced as Jane grabbed more and more curls.

Dean chuckled and pecked the top of Hermione's head, substituting Hermione's hair with his fingers as Jane gripped on tightly while Hermione tied her hair up messily, the band having previously snapped earlier on.

"Hey, Hermione, what's up with Luna?" Sam asked as he entered.

"Oh, Luna's just very…unique, not exactly tuned into the same frequency as a lot of people," she paused and tilted her head, "Why are you asking?"

"Because she's talking to Castiel, and he's the reddest I've ever seen him – I didn't even know he could blush," Sam grinned, Hermione and Dean scrambling up from the couch to peek from the archway, Jane still in Dean's arms, seeing that the blonde was going on and on about something while a very red angel nodded absently.

"Well, if Castiel had to develop a crush on anyone, it would be Luna," Hermione chuckled.

"Great, we're going to start breeding Nephilim," Dean snorted.

"Wait, what?" Harry blinked.

"Offspring of angels and mortal women, very bad things," Hermione turned to explain before turning to Dean, "And that was when the angels lusted after the women – by the looks of it, Angel Boy got a good chunk taken out of him by the love bug. This could have an entirely different outcome."

"Or the exact same outcome, and then where would we be?" he countered.

"Or nothing could happen because Cas would be too chicken," Sam offered.

"Oh, good point," Hermione hummed.

"Hermione," Harry warned, "If Castiel doesn't want to pursue it, don't push him."

"Excuse me, but didn't you say you didn't want to pursue Ginny in your sixth year? And _who_ talked you into it?" she blinked over at him.

"Yeah, but I'm not an angel and Jane isn't a possible Nephilim," Harry pointed out. "Just leave it alone, Hermione."

"But he – " she began.

"Granger," Fred settled his fists on his hips as Fleur snatched Victoire from George's shoulders. "Do you want to be responsible for a possible Apocalypse?"

"Well, no, but he – "

"Hermione," Sam grinned, "It'll be fine if you just leave it alone."

Hermione pursed her lips and huffed, put out while Dean chuckled and pecked her head, Jane eyeing her godmother's curls again.

* * *

**I doubt I'll do anything with Castiel and Luna, but I think it's kinda funny. But hey, maybe I will, maybe I won't. Who knows? **


End file.
